The Right to be Human
by QueenYoda
Summary: "I'm afraid you'll have to have faith for the both of us, my friend," Charles said softly. Erik looked up. "You know faith isn't my strong suit Charles," he replied. Charles looked up. His eyes were sunken in with sadness. "At the moment my friend? It is not mine either." A First Class AU that leaves Charles and Erik friends, and the world very much changed.
1. Chapter 1

_"_ _It is the greatest gift we have; to bear their pain without breaking. And it's borne from the most human part: hope."_

 ** _-Charles Xavier_**

* * *

"No," Charles mumbled, his eyes snapping open to reveal pupils filled with panic. Moira turned, startled by the desperation in his voice. "NO! Don't do this, Erik!" he slammed his hand down on the window again, giving into a rare sign of fury. " _Damn him_!" Charles cursed in a voice hoarse from shouting commands. Moira looked up in sudden alarm as the exclamation was uttered by one of the most improbable people on the face of the planet.

Charles Xavier was no saint, Moira knew that, but he was no defiler of language either. And, as he had continuously informed Sean and Alex, _a dam_ was a large structure built by either humans or beavers to hold something at bay or something inside. It was not an explanative to be used whenever one saw fit.

However, that was in front of his students, and when everything was alright. He said things like that when they were sitting in the study helping him go through endless masses of books and Alex and Sean had decided to build a book house with little to no success. That man was very different from the one who crouched a few feet away from her now. This man reminded her strongly of a military general; focused, determined, _brave,_ his mind stretched to take in every inch of the battlefield as his senses attuned to each of his soldiers.

And this was not the study; this was war.

Or the preventing of it, in all reality. "What is it?" Moira hissed as Charles suddenly surged to his feet. A string of dark chocolate hair, soaked with sweat, wriggled irritatingly in her eyes. She felt as if she were being baked beneath the hot Cuban sun, gutted by the knowledge that if this went wrong…

The world as they knew it would be over.

"That bloody idiot," Was Charles's only answer. His eyes were an opaque shade of blue that Moira had learned meant that he was deep inside of his own mind, probably controlling someone else's. The thought no longer terrified her. Charles shook his head. Moira could see every muscle in his body tense, hesitating.

"Charles…" The hesitation ended as quickly as it began. Suddenly, all she saw was a blur as Charles rocketed past her, and smelled a bit of fragrance that was partly adrenaline and partly British tea.

"Charles!" she shouted after him, jumping to her feet. Her blood rushed in her ears. What was going on? Were they in danger? "What's going on?" She shouted, and heard only a faint sound that was Charles, yelling an answer over his shoulder as he raced from the safety of their destroyed ship towards the submarine where Erik had vanished moments before.

"Erik's in trouble!"

* * *

Charles had never run so fast as he did then, his legs working of their own accord. The hot Cuban sand went flying in his footsteps as he jumped over smoking debris and ducked into the darkness of the submarine, all the while thinking of Shaw and Erik in there alone.

He was still holding the villain by his mind, but he had been cut off from Erik. He could feel the rage consuming his friend, devouring him… He could feel the goodness in Erik slipping away, and he would not allow that to happen, or else everything they had fought against would just be born anew.

All the same, he dared not let go of Shaw for fear that he would hurt Erik and escape. Charles could hardly even think of the consequences if Shaw were allowed to roam free. He would cause another world war; he would decimate the human race. Thousands dead, dying a cruel and slow death, another genocide.

Speaking of cruel, slow deaths… _Please,_ Charles thought, one half of him desperately seeking the solace of Erik's psyche, so full of pain but also fostering seeds of true goodness, a goodness such as Charles rarely ever felt. _Please don't do this Erik. Be the better man…_

Charles choked on grains of sand as he finally found his way into the submarine. His eyes had scarcely taken time to adjust to the dimness of the interior before he was feeling his way through the giant rooms, following the trail of cold revenge that Erik had left. His heart hammered in his ears, a persistent itch of _go, go, go, go_! that spurred him on. Through Shaw's eyes, he saw Erik standing there, twisting a small coin in his hand. Charles knew what it meant.

 _Please, Erik…._

Shaw's fear became his own. "Now I'm going to count. One…" He was almost there, he could feel it. He could _hear_ Erik's voice. Charles was so close. Shaw's terror sparked an adrenaline rush.

"Two…"

Charles soared over a couch to the inner chamber. There was Erik, a shiny helmet blinking mockingly at Charles, his back turned to him. Shaw standing just in front of Erik, frozen by Charles's power.

"Three…" The coin was touching Shaw's forehead. Charles stopped just inside the doorway, snatching it and hanging on for dear life. He had never run so hard in his life, and his legs did not appreciate the effort.

"Erik, wait!" The coin halted, shook with shock. Erik swiveled, his face the very mask of surprise when he saw who had called his name.

"Charles?" Erik narrowed his eyes. "Get out of here!" He ordered, for some odd reason thinking hat Charles would actually follow his command. Last time the telepath had checked, _he_ was leader of this operation.

"Not until you come to your bloody senses, Erik," Charles cringed at the loudness. It took an enormous amount of concentration to control Shaw for this long. He could feel the man fighting against him.

"He deserves to die!"

"He deserves _justice_. What you're doing is cold, merciless murder," his control on Shaw was slipping and along with it his physical functions. If he tried to keep this up much longer, he would barely be able to stand, much less help Erik if it came to a fight between them and Shaw. Charles inhaled a deep breath. This was not the right moment for this conversation.

 _You can't save him, telepath,_ Shaw's voice muttered in his head. _He's mine._ _He's always been mine_. Charles gritted his teeth, a surge of raw determination filling his veins. _You've done enough, Shaw._ Charles had seen the destruction this maniac had wrought on an innocent boy _._ He had ruined Erik's life. If Charles had anything to say about it, he would not get his soul too.

"Please, Erik," he pleaded. "Think of Raven. Think of Hank, and Alex and Sean and what a difference you have made in their lives! Think about how they admire you and ask yourself," he inhaled a trembling breath. His head was splitting. "Do you want to tell them that you've murdered a man?"

Erik's eyes flickered with emotion. Through his harsh exterior, it was obvious to see that Erik cared about the children deeply. "I've murdered before," he pointed out.

"That was when you didn't know any better, when you thought you were alone," Charles slowly slid against the doorway. There were black dots swimming in front of his vision. He was so tired, but he had to save Erik.

"Charles?" And judging by the concern he saw in Erik's face, he was doing a good job so far. Erik took a step forward, but hesitated, as if trying to figure out which was more important, killing Shaw or helping Charles. The telepath's heart ached. This is what prejudice had done, it had not only taken the lives of thousands of innocent people, it had scarred the heart of a good man.

"You know better now, Erik. You aren't alone," _you aren't alone._ His own voice echoed in his head as he dizzily fell to his knees. Erik took a step forward, his brows creased in deep worry.

"Charles! Are you…?"

Shaw broke free with a shout of triumph. Charles cried out as his connection with the man snapped. He went limp against the doorway, energy spent. _I'm sorry, Erik._ His friend was on his own now. The thought terrified him.

That terror increased when through eyes blurry with weariness, he saw Shaw swipe at Erik with hands charged with unmated power. His friend was went flying across the room. He landed against the metal pole with a loud clang and crumpled to his knees, gasping. "Nice try, boys!" Shaw crowed. His eyes swept the room until they landed on Charles, weak and near unconsciousness on the ground. He nodded appreciatively.

"I have to say, well done, Charles! I very much wish I had had you on my side rather than Ms. Frost," Charles gave him a dry, heated look. He would rather die than join this monster in creating World War III. Shaw pretended not to notice his look of defiance, instead going on.

"Were you the mastermind of all this?" he inquired, gesturing to the destroyed submarine and beyond. "You're just a child!" Charles wanted to protest that his theories and lectures had been heard at some of the greatest institutes in England, he was one of the most powerful telepaths known to mutant-kind (he knew because Cerebro had shown him that there were only a few in existence, most of them ignorant of their powers) and besides, he had successfully hidden a _blue girl_ for a majority of his life. He was no child. But opening his mouth was a great chore, and he was not all that sure he could say much anyway. He felt like he very much wanted to vomit instead.

"Stay away from him!" And there Erik went yelling again. His friend hurtled across the room towards his nemesis, eyes aflame. Charles groaned as the sound of manipulated metal assaulted his eardrums. Shaw turned in time to extend his hand. A blast of pure twisted in the air, spiraling towards Erik. The metal-bender ducked beneath the onslaught, firing back with small bolts and nails as he cautiously made his way towards Charles, surely meaning to protect him.

"Bloody idiot," Xavier muttered again, this being his general opinion of Erik that day. He had a chance to run, and he was worried about _Charles?_ Was he insane?

Erik halted just in front of the doorway, positioning himself in front of Charles protectively. Shaw had one arm raised in defense, standing across from them. Charles saw him shift his eyes towards the radiation machine, contemplating, before he seemed to realize something.

"I'd like my helmet back now, Erik," Shaw said, cocking a finger to indicate 'give it here.' Charles found it slightly irritating that Shaw was staring at them both as if they were nothing more than disobedient and cranky children.

Erik growled low in his throat. His entire body was taut with readiness. Bits of metal swirled in the air around his head, waiting. "Over my dead body," he replied.

"Please don't talk about dead bodies," Charles begged him, because he was not sure how long his body was going to stay intact right then. Erik looked down at him, his eyes concerned, and in that moment, Shaw pulled his last trick.

A gun.

Normally, this would not have bothered Charles. He had seen Erik take guns apart like they were child's play without even touching them, but the gun in Shaw's hand was not metal. It was plastic, the bullets made out of diamond. Shaw pulled the safety off with a muted click. Erik swiveled on his heel, realization registering on his face when he saw the instrument aimed at his heart.

He had planned for this. He had made sure that Erik could not deflect him.

Shaw gave him one last charming grin. "Goodbye, my boy."

 _Boom._

"No!" Both men had forgotten one detail although. Charles was a telepath, which meant that he had heard Shaw's thought before it was even fully developed, and like a bullet, his own thoughts devoured him in a sudden flash of doubt mingled with stubbornness. Perhaps his dreams of saving mutant-kind and the world and making a difference had all merely been dreams. Perhaps Charles Xavier had finally been defeated. _Fine,_ he thought defiantly, as he struggled to make his aching muscles move. _So be it._ But if there was one thing he did-could- not tolerate, it was surrender.

And he would _not_ surrender Erik's life.

Charles was moving before Shaw could even pull the trigger, pushing himself agonizingly to his feet. He was too weak to do anything telepathically, he knew that, but beyond his mind he still had one last defense which he could use to save Erik's life. His body.

Quickly, Charles grabbed Erik by the shoulder, turning his back on Shaw in a human shield. No more than two seconds later, he felt a blossoming of intense pain in his shoulder blade. He gasped, shocked more than anything. The second bullet however, made him scream as his entire body was suddenly consumed in fire, beginning at his lower back and spreading until it was in every inch and centimeter of his pores.

His scream seemed to have alerted both Shaw and Erik that the bullets had hit _him_ instead of their intended target. From far away, Charles heard Erik scream his name. He looked up into Erik's eyes and saw everything he himself was feeling: horror, confusion, desperation, admiration. And then he was falling, falling, into other places and other lifetimes….reliving his own nightmares and dreams…Seeing himself over again with the knowledge that it was probably the end.

 _"_ _I hear voices in my head,"_

 _"_ _The world is on fire!"_

 _"_ _Devil!"_

 _"_ _You don't have to steal. In fact, you never have to steal again,"_

 _"_ _Cambridge it is then,"_

 _"_ _How's that for a magic trick?"_

 _"_ _Shaw has friends. You could do with some,"_

 _"_ _I call it Cerebro,"_

 _"_ _Remarkable!"_

 _"_ _I trust you,"_

 _"_ _Are you ready for this?"_

 _"_ _I'm sorry Charles. It's not that I don't trust you,"_

 _"_ _You aren't alone…"_

He saw several faces flash before his sight.

Alex, grinning with relief and pride when he mastered his powers.

Sean, his arms outstretched into parasail's of freedom as he swooped and soared through the air, weightless and careless and letting out booming laughs of happiness.

Hank, hunched over in his lab with a microscope pressed to his eye as he studied their genes, one after another, and his smile of content to find that his genes were not the only ones of their kind on Earth.

Moira, her cheekbones stretched wide in an amused and impressed smile when he had read his thesis aloud one night excitedly.

Erik, his face red with fatigue and yet his entire face bright with a teary smile and near silent laughter when he discovered that place between rage and serenity.

Raven, her snarky half smile in place as she stood above four defeated opponents-including none other than Erik Lenshnerr- in the practice gym, blue form shining with exertion.

His friends. His students. His family.

Charles considered these faces for a fraction of a second, and decided that as long as they lived; then everything was alright. He had not failed after all. A deep sense of content temporarily blocked the pain, and for the first time in his life, Charles Xavier's mind was at peace.

Then it all went dark.

* * *

Charles had struck Erik as many different things. Naïve, trusting, intelligent, quirky, optimistic, but above all of these things, Erik had been struck by one thing emanating from Charles, something that the mutant was relatively sure his friend had no idea about.

Charles, from some distant lineage, was a King.

He would probably deny it, but Erik knew it was true. After all, Charles did not ask, he _commanded_ the attention of everyone in the room. That was what made him such a good speaker and mentor. He did not instruct, he _guided_ and to do that he had to be calm, composed, dignified and carry himself not only like a scholar but a Sovereign, and as a Sovereign, he had an innate _strength_ about him. That strength reminded Erik so much of his mother that it had bade him to follow this man all around the world in their shared quest, to play multiple games of chess with him night after night. He had been attracted to that strength like a moth to a bright light, and eventually, he had come to need it.

He _needed_ Charles, and that revelation came to him as the revelation that he needed his mother had come to him. Too late. He had not even fully registered that Shaw had shot at him before he felt Charles's hand grip his shoulder strongly, and the younger man literally _threw_ himself upon him. Their eyes met; sapphire to opaque cerulean, their minds miles apart but for a second, their souls connected. Everything after that happened as if in slow motion.

Erik had watched, helpless, as one diamond bullet tore through Charles's right shoulder. True to the strength Erik had come to associate him with, Charles did not scream. He gasped and jolted, sapphire eyes wide with surprise, but no scream. It was the second shot where he screamed, and the noise cleaved through Erik like a sword. His heart ached in tandem with Charles's body, and he found himself screaming as well.

"CHARLES!" Said man stared at him, a small, reassuring smile on his face _. Always reassuring, always comforting, always Charles, even now._ He continued smiling and staring for as long as it took for Erik's heart to skip three beats before his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed.

"No!" Erik scrambled to catch him, gently lowering the limp and lifeless body to the ground. Blood soaked through Charles's tight outfit, pooling on the ground beneath him and moistening Erik's hands.

"No," Erik gasped again, gut twisting at the sight of blood. It looked so unnatural on Charles. Charles and red did not go together, it just _did not._ Red was his color, the color of blood, the color of fire, the color of revenge.

 _The color of death._

"N-no," this time the word came out as a sob. Erik pressed a trembling finger to the pulse spot on Charles's neck. He exhaled a sigh of relief when he felt a sputtering beat against his fingertips. He didn't know what he would do if…

He heard the sound of slow clapping, and looked up to see Shaw grinning down at him. He was laughing. The crazy maniac was _laughing_ at Charles. Erik saw red. "Of all the things… I have to say you _do_ have a way with people Erik, my boy," Shaw cackled, letting his hands fall. "There aren't many a men on this planet who would give their lives for another. It seems you've found one," Shaw smirked.

"Too bad, really. Those people never last long," the smirk fell and a look of near remorse followed it. Shaw nodded towards Charles's bleeding body, sagely. "It is better this way," he told Erik knowingly, as if he had seen this scene a million times before. "He would have been a liability. People like him are no better than the humans," cold arrogance gleamed in Shaw's eyes. "Weak. Stupid. Inferior," he finished darkly.

 _"_ _Weak. Stupid. Inferior,"_ Erik did not register getting up. He knew that he set Charles down with all the gentleness of a brother, but beyond that any movement he made was shrouded in the fog of fury that had consumed him, a thousand times hotter and more deadly than the one he had felt when he saw his mother murdered in front of his eyes. One mantra played over and over in his mind, a mocking lullaby to any mercy left in his heart.

 _"_ _Weak. Stupid. Inferior."_

This man had murdered his family. He had tortured Erik. He had slaughtered hundreds of his people. He had killed Darwin. He had shot Charles, made him scream. And now… He had the _audacity_ to call the man who had jumped into freezing waters to save Erik's life a _weak, stupid, inferior_ human?

Erik roared in rage. The submarine shifted and shook in the sand, the only still part the placemat of metal holding Charles's bleeding body. Shaw looked up, eyes wide. "I'll shoot!" the gun was snatched from his grip by a metal cable swinging from the ceiling. He cried out as the cable whipped around his neck, squeezing.

Shaw dropped to his knees, desperately tugging at the cable around his throat. Metal poles sharpened and floated above his head like spears. Shaw's eyes went wide with fear as he stared at the man in front of him, and saw his creation for the very first time as he truly was.

Frankenstein's monster.

Erik could _smell_ his fear. "You don't want to do this, Erik," Shaw choked as he came closer, stopping when his boots touched Shaw's knees. "I know you don't. I am your creator, I made you stronger," Erik smirked. He was begging for mercy, was he? As Erik had begged as a small boy for mercy?

As Charles had begged for him to live, only then to fall screaming?

Erik did what his creator would have done: he laughed and clapped his hands. "You did make me stronger," he agreed with some amusement as he called his coin back into his hand. "And I thank you for it, but if you wanted any mercy from _me,_ creator, you should have done only one thing," Shaw let out a trembling breath. Erik let the coin hover over his head. "You shouldn't have shot Charles."

He _pushed_ against the coin with his power and with some maniac glee, felt satisfaction on Charles's behalf for making Shaw scream.


	2. Chapter 2

_"_ _Erik's in trouble!"_ Those words, and all that they implied, ran through Moira's mind over and over. Ever since she had seen Charles rocket out of the ship into the open she had kept a gun in her hand, itching to run after him. She might not have liked Erik overly much, but she had read his file.

She knew a bit of what had happened to him during the war, and every time she thought of it an inexplicable rage overcame her. No child should have been forced to endure any of what happened during those dark days. For what he had suffered and lived through; he had her admiration.

Because Charles trusted him; he had her trust. Moira did not want to see him hurt or killed in any way whatsoever, and just sitting there waiting for a reply, she was starting to get the feeling that no one was ever coming. She should have been out there fighting, not here in this sweltering ship. Even Raven was outside, for goodness sakes!

Moira slammed a hand down on the console in frustration, taking the headphones down with her palm. Damn these imbeciles! Didn't they realize that there were people trying to save the world down here? Grumbling, Moira stood up and looked out of the crushed windows to see Raven running towards two stumbling men.

"Alex! Sean!" Moira grinned and hurriedly stepped into the light of day, relieved. She had seen the boys take off, and hoped to all heavens that they would return alive. They had their arms wrapped around each other.

Moira could not see which was injured (they both appeared to be limping) but she could see no serious injuries on either of them. Raven ran up, throwing her arms around both of them, laughing. "You guys are okay!" she cried. Moira walked over just as Hank appeared, holding his left arm. Moira frowned worriedly and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright, Beast?" She inquired softly. Hank sent her an unreadable look, but nodded. He was staring into the distance, at the ships.

"Yeah," he breathed after a moment, nodding. Suddenly, a giant grin split his face as he muttered: "We saved them, huh?" Moira's heart swelled. She patted Hank on the back and turned to regard the brave children she had known for only a few months.

" _You_ four did," she told them, ruffling Sean's hair and clapping Alex on the shoulder. She wrapped an arm around Raven in a tight half-hug. "Charles and Erik will be so very proud of all of you," she said, sure this was true. The children all beamed, eyes sparkling, and Moira wondered how anyone could ever call them freaks.

"Hey," Alex coughed, looking around. "Where _is_ Charles?" he asked.

"And Erik?" Raven added. Four sets of eyes turned to her, confusedly, and Moira's heart skipped a beat as she remembered where both were. She stepped away from Raven, and took her gun out again. They had been gone too long.

"Charles went in after Erik," she told them. "He said something about him being in trouble," all eyes whipped around to take in the sub. It was quiet. Too quiet. The sound of the surf draining the shoreline was the only thing to be heard for a long minute as they stared; scared for their friends and wondering if going in would only endanger them more.

"We have to go after them," it was Raven who broke the silence first. Moira did not hesitate. She took a step forward. The others also moved, about to follow her, when the sound of metal shrieking broke the surf's calm breathing. Moira knew that sound intimately, and she relaxed a tad. That had to be Erik, only he could move metal like it was made of butter.

Indeed, a second later, they saw a hovering body headed their way. "When did he learn to do that?" Sean asked, surprised as Erik came into view. Moira did not answer. She had caught sight of something in Erik's hands… Or, no. It was _someone._

Raven saw it too, and Hank smelled it. "Charles?" Slowly, as if afraid she were in a nightmare, Raven began to move forward. "Erik? Charles!?" She stopped as Erik landed on the ground, and Moira saw something that terrified her.

Being held tightly against Erik's chest was none other than Charles Xavier. He was obviously unconscious, judging by the limp and boneless way his body moved as Erik landed with a soft thump, but what really terrified Moira was the blood on Erik's hands. Blood coming from the spots where he touched Charles.

She gasped and met eyes with the metal-bender. For the first time, she saw every emotion Erik was feeling etched unto his face and gleaming in his eyes. "Someone," Erik gasped, as he crumbled to his knees in the sand.

His face was a mask of desperation. "Help him!" they all rushed forward as one. Hank dropped to his knees on Erik's right while Moira pressed a hand to Charles's pulse point. She felt a lurching beat beneath her fingers.

"He's alive," she gasped, this first concern having been taken care of.

"What happened?" Hank demanded as Alex, Sean and Raven hovered over head.

"It was Shaw," Erik whispered, his eyes glued to Charles as if tethered there. "He shot him. Diamond bullets. Once in the right shoulder," Hank moved Charles gently to observe the wound. "Then in the back," Hank nodded and gently started to lift Charles up.

"Ugh!" Moira jumped as Charles suddenly sprang to life, eyes snapping open as he cried out in pain.

"Don't touch him!" Raven yelled as Hank quickly relinquished his hold and Erik shouted Charles's name as if it were a prayer.

Moira leaned forward so that she was in Charles's line of sight. "Charles, are you cognizant?" She asked, her CIA agent kicking in. She pushed her emotions to the back of her mind, instead focusing upon the task at hand. He nodded; every line in his face one of supreme agony.

"M-Moira… The children? Are they…?" he gasped.

"We're here, professor," Alex piped up from the back, sounding slightly choked. "We're all fine," Charles seemed to sink further in Erik's embrace with relief. His eyes-much too glassy for Moira's liking- slowly swiveled to Erik. He smiled.

"Erik…"

"You idiot," Erik choked out angrily, interrupting him. "You insane, stupid fool Charles! Do you have a death wish? Why would you just jump in front of a gun like that?" He demanded. Moira glanced up. He had done _what_?

Charles was unperturbed by the insults. "He… He was going to kill you," he pointed out.

Erik bit his bottom lip and in that moment he looked very much like a confused, scared child. "Damn you Xavier," he choked out, his voice, for once, full of emotion. "He killed me a long time ago. You should have let me die, Charles," he said, and even before he finished Moira knew what Charles was going to say. The young man shook his head weakly.

"You're…My friend…" he protested. He cringed in pain. "Told you… Not alone anymore…Erik…" Charles let out a slight cough. Blood foamed at his lips. Moira looked away, her mask momentarily broken as a tear spilled down Erik's cheek. He gently touched Charles's forehead with his own.

"Oh Charles," he moaned, and it was a sound of a grateful soul in purest torment.

"We don't have time for this," Moira interrupted their moment. She glanced at Hank, whose eyes were moist as he stared at Charles. "Can you do anything?" Hank snapped to attention and shook his head.

"No," he rumbled. "His wounds are extensive, and he's bleeding too fast. There's nothing I can do for him," Erik went pale, his head snapping up to meet hers. She saw the question there.

"Then we have no choice. We have to get him to the ship," she pointed to the large ships sitting off shore.

"Are you crazy?" Raven snapped. "We can't hand him over to _them_!"

" _They,"_ Moira growled back. She had no time for this human/mutant argument that seemed so prevalent. "Are the only ones who may be able to save Charles. Do you want to see him die Raven?" A harsh question, but a fair one. Raven's eyes gleamed with moistness.

"They'll kill him as soon as they realize what he is!" She gestured to the others emphatically. "What we _all_ are! Are you so naïve as to think that they don't hate us?" She demanded, and in her eyes Moira saw the intense struggle for acceptance. Charles coughed again. More blood bubbled on his small lips. His eyes drifted closed.

"Stay awake, Charles," Erik pleaded. He looked up at the younger mutants, preferably the blue one arguing with Moira. "Raven, I agree with you," he quickly interceded. "You know I do, but Moira is right. This is our only chance. If we don't do this, Charles _will_ die right here, right now. Do you want to save your brother?" Raven nodded without hesitation. "Good. Take Alex and Sean to find the remainder of Shaw's crew, especially that teleporter. Bring him to me. Alive. Do you understand?" They nodded. "Go then, and hurry!" Moira did not watch them go. She knelt over Charles's body. He had begun to shiver.

Blue eyes fluttered. "Hank, go get me some bandages from the ship. We have to stop the bleeding," Moira ordered. Hank disappeared in a flash of blue fur. Moira glanced up. Erik was staring down at Charles tenderly, gently running a hand through his dark chocolate locks.

"Erik," the metal bender did not respond, but she knew he was listening. "Listen. When the kids come with the teleporter, you and I have to take Charles aboard the American fleet. Let me do the talking, okay? And don't. Destroy. _Anything._ Got it?"

"If they don't help Charles, they're all going to the bottom of the ocean," Erik replied gravely.

"If they don't help Charles, I will _personally_ put a bullet in each head until I find someone smart enough who will. You can help. That's why you're coming. But wait until I talk to them first, got it?" Erik looked up in surprise, and whatever steel he saw in her eyes was enough, because he cocked an impressed eyebrow.

"Yes, ma'am." Hank arrived just in time, dropping to his knees with several rolls of gauze in his hands. Moira tore off pieces with her teeth.

"Okay. This is going to hurt here Charles," she nodded to Hank. He gently lifted Charles shoulder, exposing a hole in his lower back sprinkled with sand. Charles let out a hoarse scream. Vivid red blood was oozing from the wounds. Moira worked fast to bandage them.

"Shh," Erik muttered into Charles's ear. "Hush, Charles. They're trying to help. It will be over soon," he soothed.

"Erik," Charles weakly gripped his friend's arm. "My sister. The children… You'll…" he hissed in pain. "You'll take care of them? Promise me you'll look after them Erik," Moira swallowed a lump in her throat. Hank whimpered. Erik gently swiped a strand of hair from Charles's face.

" _We'll_ take care of them, my friend," he murmured, but Charles shook his head vehemently.

"Shut up, you bloody idiot," he gasped. "I'm dying. Promise me. Your word of honor Erik," Charles closed his eyes and let out a trembling breath. "Please," he begged. Moira saw Erik swallow several times, opening and closing his mouth several more.

"Charles… Charles, I…" he was interrupted by the sound of a large person being slammed to his knees. Moira looked up. The others had arrived, Raven stood victorious and wrathful over Azazel, arms crossed. Alex and Sean held Angel and the storm person by their arms, faces stony. Moira ignored the bruises on the faces of their enemies. All that mattered now was Charles. He could give them all a lecture on mercy when he was feeling better.

When. Not if. Moira refused to think like that.

She stood. Erik's eyes filled with fury. He slowly reached out with one bloodied hand. Suddenly, a metal cable whipped from the hollow of the submarine and wrapped itself around Azazel's throat. "No!" Angel struggled in Alex's grip. "What are you doing?"

"Listen to me carefully," Erik instructed in a cold, dead voice as the mutant's eyes widened. "No matter where in the world you teleport, no matter how far, I can still snap your neck with this cable, understood?" the red-skinned mutant nodded, eyes locked unto the cable. "Good. Then here's how you get the cable off. Transport us to the American ship. Simple," Azazel stared at him, blinking furiously.

"You are madman," he muttered. Erik's hands tightened. The cable squeezed. Azazel gulped.

"I am impatient man. _Do_ it," he ordered.

"What about us?" Raven asked fearfully. She had not taken her eyes from Charles since she had arrived.

"We'll come back for you when we've secured him," Moira promised.

"But…!"

"Azazel?" Moira saw a flash of light and her stomach plummeted. When she next opened her eyes, she saw bulkheads and metal walls. The ocean lapped against the sides of the ship, bobbing it gently in the waves. The sun glared overhead in a blue sky. She gasped as her head swum dizzily. "Not entirely pleasant," she muttered as she stumbled against the wall.

"Where to now?" She turned around to see Erik standing behind her with Charles still in his arms. The red skinned mutant stood behind him, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. Moira turned around.

"Now we find the general of this ship."

"I'm right here," For perhaps the twelfth time that day, Moira jumped as she swiveled around to see a bulky man hurriedly marching towards them. She recognized the helmet and military decorations, but what most marked him as a leader were the eyes darkened with scenes of war and frown of stubbornness on his face. He was a general all right. Two other men were behind him, probably advisers or government people. Moira didn't care.

"General, my name is Moira McTaggert. I'm with the United States Central Intelligence Agency, and one of my men," she gestured to Charles. "Needs medical help immediately," she had never had such a short introduction in her life. The general scowled as his eyes swept over her to Erik, Charles and Azazel.

"We saw you," he muttered, referring to Erik. "On that…Jet. Thing. You picked up a submarine; and _him_ ," he pointed to Azazel.. "His skin is _red_. I don't know what kind of game you're playing Miss McTaggert, but these men are obviously inhuman. What reason do I have for not locking you all in the brig or throwing you overboard right now?" Erik's eyes darkened. She heard the sound of metal clinking. Azazel backed up, looking very much like a caged animal. Moira felt a crowd assembling, nervous and fearful eyes trained on them. She huffed. They didn't have time for this.

"Because _, general_ ," she sneered. "You took an oath to protect and obey the ideals of the Constitutions of our nation, yes?" When he nodded hesitantly, she stormed on. "And I _distinctly_ recall that in our nation's founding documents the words 'all men are created equal' were printed at the _very beginning._ Do you recall that?"

"Should I say no?" he inquired dryly, to the amusement of his soldiers.

"So no matter the opinions you have on what these brave men are, the fact still remains that they are your equals beneath the ideals you swore to protect. Thus they have the equal right to your assistance. And ideals aside," she jerked a thumb towards Erik. "Would you _really_ like him to sink your ship?" She asked.

Erik was staring at her with a mingled look of palpable admiration and respect. Azazel looked slightly scared but more impressed. Moira, as a matter of fact, was quite proud of her herself. Her mother would have been proud too.

The general was less than pleased. He crossed his arms and the stubborn glint in his eyes made Moira suddenly doubt the righteousness of her words. "Sink it then," he stated without qualm. Moira was taken aback.

"What?" She demanded.  
"Sink it," the general repeated fearlessly. "Sink us, shoot us, or yell at us. It doesn't matter Miss McTaggert. I will not allow a potentially dangerous man aboard my ship. If my men are to die, it will not be because I trusted the wrong people," he narrowed his eyes at Erik. "So sink us then, freak. Sink us and show us who you _really_ are," _you bloody idiot,_ was Moira's only coherent thought, sounding very much like Charles. She blinked rapidly; suddenly afraid that Erik would take the general up on his offer, that after he did, their last hope of saving Charles would be lost. She turned back, about to tell him to stand down.

It was too late.

Erik's eyes were afire with a cold-blooded rage. Slowly, he stalked forward, Charles's lifeless body swaying in his arms. "Erik…" _think of Charles,_ she meant to implore, but upon seeing his face, decided against it. They were all going to die anyway, Charles included. Moira had always known that Erik was a ticking time bomb, and the moment for him to explode had just arrived. He would probably take every one of these ships down, and then the entire world in his grief and wrath. In the end, it was not Shaw or mutants or humans or even _Erik_ who destroyed them at all.

It was Charles.

Moira backed away, sending out a private apology to every person on Earth, starting with the general. _I tried, man._ And she had failed. Moira prepared for the worst.

Erik's entire body was trembling with ire as he continued forward. The metal shifted and trembled beneath his feet. The general stood there, proud, unafraid, staring Erik in the eyes with cold determination. He would not be cowed. Erik would not be stopped.

The world would never stop burning.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of the waves pushing against their boat, nature ever persistent in her fight against humanity. Then, the metal-bender did the most amazing thing that Moira had ever witnessed. He stopped, just inches away from the human in front of him. Then, shocking them all, Erik dropped to one knee before the general and bowed his head.

 _Didn't see that coming._

"Please," Erik's voice shook with emotion. Moira wondered if they had died yet. "You _have_ to save him," the general's eyes widened imperceptibly, then narrowed suspiciously.

"Why should I?" He asked.

Erik did not look up. "Because… Because…" Erik stammered over the question agonizingly for a moment before charging onwards. Even the waves had quieted, listening intently to every word being said. "He is a decent, honest, _honorable_ man. He has risked his life to save mine three times now. He risked his life to come here and prevent _your_ war." Moira really, really _, really_ hoped Charles was awake. That he could hear the things being said about him because Moira knew without a doubt that Erik would never utter them aloud again. The fact that he even was in front of all these people…

It was a miracle.

"He has a family. He has people who care about him, and…" Erik finally looked up, and Moira was shocked to actually see tears glistening on his face, in full view of everyone on the ship. The general took a step backwards, staggered. She couldn't blame him. She was just a surprised; and she had been sure she knew how Erik would act in any situation: with anger.

"And he's my best friend," a tear slowly trailed down the side of his nose. Moira did not realize that she was crying until she saw the tears sparkling on the faces of every other man on deck. She swiped at the tears weakly. _Oh, Charles._

"Please. I've showed you who I am. Show me who you are," _show me Charles wasn't wrong about you,_ Erik bowed his head once more, shoulders drooping beneath interminable loss. "I'm _begging_ you. Save my friend." Moira put a hand on his shoulder and looked up at the general. She saw his eyes sparkling with tears, and knew that Erik's words had moved him.

The waves roared approval. The general closed his eyes, uncertain before opening them again. He exhaled slowly. "Corporal!" he suddenly barked. One of the man standing behind him jumped, startled by the loud noise after Erik's quiet oration.

"Yes, sir?" He asked tentatively.

"Get this man a stretcher, and get him down to the Dr. Now. Understood?" the corporal nodded and saluted. Moira saw admiration shining in his eyes.

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir," he addressed the last part to Erik with a wink before dashing away. Erik let out a breath of relief as he stood. He was a full foot taller than the general, but when he looked down it was not with unkindness.

"C'mon then, son," the general said softly, gently clapping Erik on the shoulder. He motioned for Moira to follow. "Let's get you all cleaned up and rested. I don't know who you are or even _what_ you are, but…" The general took a deep breath, as if what he was about to say filled him with anxiety, but eventually, he did say it.

"It's amazing."


	3. Chapter 3

Raven wasn't like Charles.

At least, usually she was not like Charles. Hank had watched Charles, and he had taken notice of the difference between the brother and sister team, particularly their difference in behavior. Where Charles was calm and logical, Raven was emotional and irrational, both prone to their own ways of doing things.

When they were worried, however, they became suddenly very alike. Meaning that while Alex, Sean and Hank sat in the shade of their crashed jet, Raven was out in the hot sandy beach pacing like a caged tiger and muttering beneath her breath. Her blue skin glinted black in the light, and her orange hair looked like fire raining down from her head. Her entire face was scrunched into concern and fear.

Meanwhile, Angel and the stormy man sat in the back, tied to chairs and gagged for the moment. Alex was keeping an eye on them (more for something to do rather that an actual fear that they might escape). Hank was twiddling with some piece of machinery, leaning against the entrance to the ship. In the distance, Soviet and AmErikan ships sat in the water, menacing and looming.

Hank gulped. It was hard to believe that the scrawny scientist that he had been a few scant months ago was now here, getting in the middle of the world's two largest super-powers and trying to save the world from extinction. Sometimes, it was not only hard to believe but insane to believe. _He_ had taken down the teleporter. Him and Alex. _He_ had flown a jet and he… _He_ was blue now.

Once again Hank turned his _paw_ around in his hand, and cringed. Though Raven had said that this was how he was meant to be, it still did nothing to hide the fact that this is not what he wanted to be. _I saved the world,_ he thought sadly, _but not myself_. And not Charles either. Every time Hank glanced over at the spot of blood still staining the sand his gut clenched.

Charles was one of the first and only people to understand him, and to be delighted by Hank's successes, even the small ones. Hank had not had a good childhood. His father had never been overly pleased with the way Hank preferred his studies over sports, and so they had not been close. His mother… Well. She had died long ago, and Hank had grown up in a house cold with loathing.

Until he moved into the mansion that was. And despite the fact that Alex was a bully, Raven was melodramatic, Sean was a sarcastic delinquent, Erik was Mr. Mutant superiority specialist, Moira was sneaky and distant and Charles… Well. Able to read minds, Hank had found not only fellow mutants but a team, a _family._ He had finally found his home, and a large percent of his heart thanked Charles for that.

"Don't you think this is taking too long? What could be taking them this long?" Raven called over. Hank looked up. She had ceased pacing. Instead she stood in the sand tersely, eyes trained on the ships far away.

"I think we don't really have a choice but to wait," Alex replied dryly. "Our ship is scrap-metal," he tapped the hull. "Remember?"

"Besides, Erik, Moira and the red dude are with him," Sean added, trying to be more helpful. "I'm sure between the three of them, they're fine," none of them said Charles's name aloud, as if by saying it, they were acknowledging the fact that he was vitally hurt. None of them wanted to acknowledge that because out of all of them it had always seemed as if Charles was the invincible one. The one nothing and no one could touch. He was the leader.

"They're against an entire _armada_ , Sean," Raven groaned.

"Yeah," Alex agreed. "On a metal ship. Erik can trash that thing with a pinky finger," there was a hint of pride in his voice, and Hank could not help but remember seeing Erik suspend in mid-air, levitating above their heads. He still didn't know when he had learned to do that. But he had to admit it filled him with a tinge of pride to know that _their_ Erik could do it.

"Hey Beast," Sean continued, changing the subject. He held up one arm, exposing the hole in his flying suit. "Think you can repair this?" he asked. Hank nodded and fingered the fried fabric.

"It'll be easy to, yes," he replied confidently. "Not right now, but later," Sean nodded towards Alex, or to be precise, Alex's bare chest.

"Alex decided to flash our enemies," he teased. Alex gave him a lazy grin.

"It blinded them," he snorted.

"Or was that your face, Medusa?" Raven quipped, walking over to plop down next to Hank.

"Hey!" Alex cried as Sean and Hank burst out laughing. "I thought we were friends," he grinned evilly. "Oceania," Raven cocked a curious eyebrow at him, but said nothing as Sean and Hank snickered.

"She can't be an ocean, she's on fire," Hank suggested logically, pointing to her orange hair. Raven gave him a small smile.  
" _Thank you,_ Hank. I have been on fire today," she chirped.

"Hey, hey, if anyone has been on fire today it has been me. I played the role of Sonar!" Sean protested.

Hank rolled his eyes. "I flew the ship, through _a hurricane_ ," he pointed out, very impressed with himself for that none too small feat. Even if the ship had ultimately crashed.

"I took out the red guy,"

"I took out stormy over there," Alex jerked his thumb towards their captive. Stormy himself cast them a glance full of venom. Hank growled low in his throat, a clear warning, and the man desisted in his treasonous looks.

"We've all been on fire today," Sean put in helpfully once Hank was done scaring the bad guy. Hank nodded and smiled. This was the family that they had so unknowingly constructed and Hank had to agree that indeed, they had all been on fire today.

Out of his peripheral vision, he caught a glint of redness in the sand, and cringed. Fire. Blood. Charles.

The others had noticed where his eyes were, and suddenly, the light mood between them faded as quickly as if the sun had just fallen from the sky, leaving them in eternal darkness. "Hank," that was Raven, her voice as emotionless as he had ever heard from her. "Tell me the truth. Will my brother live?"

She was staring at him now. So was Sean and Alex, their eyes hopeful and sad at the same time, as if they knew what he was about to say but just lacked the courage to accept that there was nothing else he could say. Hank swallowed, wondering when he had become the leader.

He wanted to tell her that of course he would; that Charles was stronger than he looked; that she should have faith. He wanted to tell her that everything would be alright. Once, he might have, but that was before they had seen a brave man turned to ash in front of their eyes. That was before they had become... _Whatever_ they were now and so Hank told her the truth.

"I hope so," and he meant it, he meant it with everything in his body. Raven blinked her large yellow eyes, cat-like and all-seeing. Then she nodded and leaned on his shoulder, staring out into the sea.

"I hope so," she murmured.

Hank leaned on her head, and didn't object when Sean slipped in beside Raven and Alex plopped down on the end, and suddenly they had all linked hands and were leaning against each other, staring out to the sea.

Hoping.

It seemed as if millennia had passed before they saw a flash of red, the trumpet call of strangers. Raven shot to her feet when she saw Erik and Azazel standing in the sand a few feet away. The latter still had the metal wrapped around his throat like a leash, but Erik wasn't holding it. Hank knew that he could still crush Azazel's windpipe with it.

Erik looked up, and smiled wanly when he saw them. He looked exhausted, but Hank saw his hands were clean of blood and the sparkle in his eyes was not one of tears.

"He's safe," was Erik's first comment when he saw them. Raven let out a noise of pure relief and Hank felt a weight lift from his chest. He smiled as Sean and Alex whooped with joy. It was as if the sun had returned.

"Thank goodness. Where is he then?" he asked, standing. He put a hand on Raven's shoulder, and didn't object when she rammed into him in a hug. Erik gestured to the ships.

"Getting medical attention. Moira is with him, gun poised. I'm to bring you all to him," he explained.

"What about _them_?" Alex pointed to the mutants they were holding prisoner. Erik cocked a brow in their direction as if he had forgotten about them.

"You could untie us," Angel suggested sweetly. Sean snorted.

"You attacked me with a flying _loogie_ sweetheart. Nice try," he crossed his arms and turned away, as if he were truly all that angry with her. Hank knew Sean had probably seen it as some kind of adventure.

"Well? What do we do, Erik?" Hank repeated, glad to hand over the mantle of leadership to someone else. Erik placed a hand on his chin, contemplative, then he announced something that nearly made Hank choke on his own breaths.

"Bring them."

* * *

"So, you're telling me they're called… _Mutants?_ And you've been working with them to stop this man named Shaw from causing World War Three?" Moira crossed her legs and daintily sipped at the water she had been offered. It was warm, but after the day she had had, better than nothing.

"Yes," she replied casually, no longer awed by the entire thing. She was just tired now. The general scratched his head from where he sat across from her in the hallway outside of the room where they were working on Charles. When Erik had seen them settle Charles into a medical bed, he had sternly warned Moira not to let him out of her sight, and she had agreed. So she persisted upon explaining the situation to the general outside of the room, where the transparent windows allowed her to watch every poke and prod on Charles's person.

"Where?" The general demanded.

Moira's eyes settled on his face. "I'm afraid that's classified," she told him unapologetically, her mind flashing to the looming walls of their hideout in New York, the homey feeling to the entire estate. "Suffice to say, it's not in Cuba," the general nodded.

"That fellow didn't sound or look Cuban. German?" She nodded.

"Our team comes from all over. Charles," she jerked her head to the man being examined. "Is English. You'll meet the others soon," it occurred to her that perhaps she was giving away a tad bit too much information, but nothing that the general could not have figured out by himself. After all, he had seen them fly here in a jet that was not in their military, and also raise a submarine and…. Everything else. Beyond that though, this man controlled Charles's treatment right now. They could not afford to isolate him.

The general nodded, looked as if he thought he were in a dream. "England. Pretty place," he muttered. "Went there once with the wife," he went on, as if he had never said anything.

"So what's your objective now, Agent McTaggert?" he asked. Moira leaned back, partially surprised by the question. They had been so preoccupied figuring out how they were going to take down Shaw that it had never occurred to them what to do when it ended. She glanced through the window at Charles, lying still and shirtless on the bed with doctors filing around. _I really wish you were awake right now, Charles_ she thought.

"I'll have to get in contact with my superiors, and maybe talk it over with the team," Erik should be bringing them any minute now. The general nodded understandingly. He, of all people; knew what it was to require further orders.

"I'm guessing you'll need a radio for that," when Moira nodded, he also added: "And I'm guessing you aren't leaving this spot?" she smiled.

"It isn't that I don't trust you and your men, general…"

"Just that you don't trust us with _him_?"

"With all due respect, of course," the general smirked. He stood and made her a salute. Mora felt honored.

"You're a good leader, agent," and now she was blushing. She stood and offered him the same courtesy.

"His sister would never forgive me if anything happened to him," she told him sincerely. As if she had called them, suddenly there was the sound of air being pushed outward from down the hall and she heard Raven call out Charles's name. "Here!" Moira called back. A second later, she heard several footsteps coming down the hall and smiled when Raven shot round the corner, followed closely by Alex, Sean and Hank.

"Moira, is he…?" Alex asked before his eyes were caught by the glass, and he saw Charles inside surrounded by medical personnel.

"I haven't got any info on him yet. They're still patching him up," Moira answered, watching as Raven slowly walked up to the glass and pressed a blue hand against it. Her cat-like eyes were round with uncertainty. Moira glanced around, and noticed one person missing. "Where's…?"

The general interrupted her question about Erik's whereabouts, tugging at her arm. "S-she's, s-she's…" she stammered, pointing to Raven.

"Blue," Moira supplied gently. Raven turned, flashing them an irritated look over her shoulder.

"But… Why?" The general gasped. Moira shrugged and patted his hand sympathetically. Poor man had gone pale.

"Because she was born that way. Oh, have you met Hank? I think you two would get along swimmingly," when he turned around, he let out a yelp of fright as Hank tried unsuccessfully to smile. It looked more like a feral snarl, exposing giant white fangs in a gorilla-like face.

"He….He's…"

"Blue as well, yes. These two trouble-makers are Sean and Alex. And… Oh, there you are Erik. You two have already met," with extreme caution, the general managed to tear his eyes from Raven and Hank enough to limply allow Alex and Sean to shake his hand distantly before they joined Raven at the glass. Erik; newly arrived from around the corner, only scowled as he clapped the general on the back.

"Charles?" He asked her. Moira shook her head.

"I don't know, but he's alive," she nodded towards the machine inside, beeping steadily as he was examined. Moira studied Erik's face, suspiciously. "Where've you been?" She asked. Erik crossed his arms, eyes growing hard.

"I put the traitors in the brig," he informed her. Moira blinked, taken aback but somehow approving. She had completely forgotten about their prisoners.

"Will they be contained here?" She asked.

"I put strips of metal around their throats and melded it to the wall," Erik answered indifferently. The general's eyes widened at the casual explanation, but Moira was well used to it by now. Besides, what else could they have done? The prisoner's hold aboard the ship had been designed for humans not loogie hacking, storm making, magic-tricking mutants. The general had returned to staring at Raven and Hank, both standing pressed against the glass anxiously.

"Blue…" he muttered.

"Yes," Moira agreed as Erik joined the others at the glass, rolling his eyes. He was muttering something in German, probably unflattering words about the general's surprise. Moira snorted. As if Erik hadn't been surprised when he had first found out he was not the only one in the world either…

"But _why_?" The general blurted again, befuddled. Moira knew that he was not just talking about Raven, and Hank, but all of them. Why were all of them this way? And she had asked herself that same question many times in the mansion. She smiled, as the answer which had eaten at her heart now came to light.

"Because they're amazing."


	4. Chapter 4

_"_ _Devil."_

 _Would you date me?"_

 _"_ _I'm gonna die!"_

 _"_ _Peace was never an option."_

 _"_ _Wake up, Charles,_ _ **please**_ _wake up…"_

Charles did so with a gasp of a newborns frenzied breath, the pleading of someone he knew ringing in his ears. Without consciously thinking about it, he had shot up, every muscles tense and his mind reeling with confusion.

His spine erupted in pure agony. Charles fell back against soft pillows, gasping for breath. He lay there completely still, red dots of pain swimming behind his lashes. He wondered vaguely if he would die from it. Next to him a large machine beeped loudly and a thin red line shot into the air rapidly, measuring his own panic, a shrill warning to desist his activities. His heart hammered in his ears like drums, drowning everything else out. Slowly though, the pain started to fade, inch by inch retreating back to its source at the base of his lower back. His heart slowed enough for his actual hearing to come into focus.

He opened his eyes. Everything was fuzzy with a white, sterile light, as if bathed in a halo. _Did I die?_ He couldn't have. He could feel a dull aching in his right shoulder. Dead people surely didn't feel pain; it was irrational. Charles raised his left hand, feeling at whatever the heck was making it ache so. _Damn,_ he thought in a rare moment of viciousness. _What did my father do to me this time?_

It disturbed him that he could not remember. He usually recalled everything. His fingers gently scraped over his shoulder, padded with bandages. The pinprick of pain he felt made him gasp aloud as everything shot violently into focus. Fragmented pictures swirled in front of his vision, pricking his brain like tiny pieces of glass.

The CIA. Shaw. The radiation weapon. Training, trying, flying, crashing… Saving Erik and then being shot and he remembered… He _remembered_ … That the bloody machine was beeping again, more loudly this time! Charles hissed in frustration, yanking his arm back to his side.

"Erik," the name came out in a desperate whisper as his heart beat wildly in his chest. He was in a medical facility for sure, judging by the sterile whiteness of his surroundings. But that could be a good or a bad thing depending on who had placed him here. Charles was no fool. He knew how valuable humans could find mutants. Shaw had experimented on Erik for years, trying to find the source of his power. Was Charles now about to experience the same? Where were the others? Had they caught Hank, Alex, Sean, _Raven_?

Charles's chest heaved with breaths that didn't seem to be doing any good. His eyes swept the room dizzily. With painstaking discipline, Charles forced himself to calm down. He was not doing anyone any good like this. Suddenly, he heard the sound of a door being opened. He looked up just in time to see a long, lanky man with a head of thinning black hair and a large, protruding nose walk in. His bushy brow furrowed. He wore the traditional white coat of a doctor.

Somehow Charles was not soothed.

"Ah," the man gasped when he saw Charles awake and staring at him. The mutant imagined he looked a frightful mess, very uncivilized. "You're awake, Mr. Xavier," Charles relaxed fractionally at hearing his name. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The doctor walked over to the machine and tapped a few buttons, quieting the stupid thing.

The room fell into a deep silence. Charles watched the man cautiously. The other didn't seem to notice. He merely stood up and gave Charles a friendly smile. "Well then, we can be properly introduced. My name is Dr. Michael Fisherman," Charles blinked, wondering if he had heard correctly. Dr. Fisherman grinned at his befuddlement. "I'm serious," he chuckled.

"Oh," Charles muttered, suddenly embarrassed that he had been seen through so easily. He was supposed to be the mind-reader here. He scrambled to regain his manners. "I'm sorry, I'm being rude. I'm…"

"Charles Xavier, I know. Professor, as the children call you," Charles perked up. _Children?_

"Dr. Fisherman, I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," he began, still trying to get his bearings. "Where am I?" Dr. Fisherman blinked, surprised, before he smacked his forehead with a loud _clap._

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Xavier! I imagine you're disorientated. You've been out cold for three days. Well, let me tell you first, your friends are safe," Charles scanned his mind for any sign of a lie. When he found none, he sighed and leaned into his pillows.

"Thank you," he breathed. "That's a relief," the doctor nodded.

"You are currently on board the _U.S.S Carolina._ In our tiny but efficient medical bay. Your friends Agent McTaggert and Erik brought you on board for treatment after the accident, and you were put under my charge," accident. Yes, that was what you called the deliberate shooting of a man. Charles did not say any of this aloud, instead upon hearing that Erik and Moira were definitely on board; he reached out with his mind. He could have jumped for joy when he felt their minds immediately, unharmed and uninhibited. Thankfully Erik had gotten rid of that stupid helmet.

 _Erik,_ he called first, gently passing by his friend's mind. He felt Erik's shock, followed immediately by a sense of relief and joy that humbled Charles.

 _Charles!_ Erik said back, using the mind techniques that Charles had showed him. _Are you alright?_ He asked first.

 _Feeling a bit left out of the loop, but otherwise yes. The children…?_

 _I'll bring them to you,_ Charles nodded and broke off the connection, relieved beyond measure. And exhausted. "Then I have you to thank for my life, yes?" He then returned to Dr. Fisherman, who was studying him curiously. The Dr. shrugged modestly. Charles decided that he liked this man.

"Really it was you, Mr. Xavier. I've never seen a man fight so hard for life, and you had some serious fighting on your hands. With the amount of blood you lost, you should be dead," Charles nodded. He had felt himself slipping a few times, tempted by the sense of peace that seemed to beckon him towards a bright and unlimited light… But he had turned back. He couldn't leave without knowing if his friends were safe, and besides, Raven would never forgive him if he _just up and died_ on her.

"Well, I very much doubt I would have survived without you anyway, Dr. Fisherman," he extended his hand. Dr Fisherman took it and Charles shook it warmly, smiling. "You have my undying gratitude, sir. Thank you. And please, call me Charles," The Dr. smiled at him and performed a flamboyant bow.

"It was my honor, Charles. And please, call me Michael. I get enough teasing from the men as it is," Charles chuckled softly with him, both of them enjoying the joke because if anyone understood how short and precious life was, it would be Michael.

"Would you like me to alert the others you're awake, Charles?" Michael then asked him compassionately. Charles shook his head, resting against his pillows as he waited.

"No. Thank you Michael, but I've already called them," after all, he assumed that if Michael had seen Raven and Hank, he would know that none of them were human. Indeed, Michael didn't bat an eye. He gazed at Charles with some admiration instead.

"Of course. I've met Raven and Hank and everyone saw Erik lift that submarine. The younger men even managed to pester Sean into some tricks but I didn't know if you were… What _do_ you do?" He wondered.

Charles shifted, a bit embarrassed by the palpable attention. True, he did like to show off every once in awhile, but after seeing Michael's modest answer about saving his life, he suddenly felt very much like a braggart.

"I'm a telepath," he finally managed, cheeks a vibrant red. Michael was delighted.

"Extraordinary!" He cried.

Charles opened his mouth to assure Michael that it really wasn't until he heard the voice which had begged him to wake up. "Charles!" Raven yelled just as she whizzed around the corner into the room, blue skin shining in the fluorescent light. Charles beamed. In that moment, Raven was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Oof," he harrumphed when she virtually landed in his lap, squeezing the life out of him. He pulled her against him tightly, relishing the feel of her safely in his arms and irrevocably, Charles was glad to be alive. "I'm alright, sister mine," he mumbled, stroking her hair as he felt wetness leak into his shoulder.

"It's alright. I'm alright, Raven," she nodded and sat back, gazing at him tenderly. His heart melted when he saw the dark circles beneath her eyes. She probably had not gotten a wink of sleep since he had been shot. "I'm sorry to have frightened you," he instantly told her.

Raven sat back and crossed her blue arms sternly. Charles had the feeling he was in for a talking too. "I'm getting too old for your shenanigans, Charles," she informed him irritably. He smiled, trying to be charming. He knew she wasn't kidding.

"I make things interesting…"

"You're an idiot and I can't believe I still put up with you. I mean, who jumps in front of a gun?" he couldn't even be offended. He just winked at her.

"Your handsome and courageous brother?" he suggested. Raven rolled her eyes, but he had managed to make her smile.

"I'm going to lock you in a closet," she threatened. "With a leash," _I welcome you to try,_ he thought in reply.

"I heard that Charles," a new voice piped up. Charles peered past Raven's shoulder to see Erik standing there looking slightly uncomfortable, but he, too, was smiling warmly. "And don't even think about fighting it. It will be a _metal_ leash," Erik added as he stepped up. Raven moved away so that Erik could get better access. Charles smiled and offered his hand. Erik shook it with a squeeze.

"It's good to see you too Erik," Charles replied cheerfully. He glanced at the children. "I see you kept your promise," Erik was staring at him as if he thought Charles might turn into thin air if he looked away.

"I never made any such promise to you, Xavier," the man growled in response. He squeezed Charles's hand. "And I never will. It's either you stay alive or they starve. Good incentive to cease your _shenanigans_ ," Charles gave him a dry look. It was his opinion that _he_ wasn't the problem here.

Looking past Erik now, he grinned at Alex, Sean and Hank. "Are you boys getting to old for me now, too?" he teased lightly. As if he had given permission the three boys walked over and each shook his hand.

"I think I am, yes," Hank rumbled. "You gave us quite the heart attack there, professor," Sean shook his head.

"I think I'm still luxuriously young," he assured Charles.

Alex gave a shy smile as he shrugged, settling his hands into his pockets. "Maybe once or twice more, just to liven things up," he said softly. Charles surprised himself when he barked out a laugh. He had not realized how much he missed his students until now.

"Ah," he cringed and held his side as his shoulder suddenly blossomed into stabbing pain. "Don't make me laugh," he scolded the others good naturedly when Moira offered him a glass of water. He took it with a nod and squeezed Moira's arm. "Hello, Moira," she smiled at him, exposing white pearly teeth.

"Hello Charles," she replied, and he could sense the worry slowly coming away from her. He gave her hand another squeeze as he realized that they were all in still in their mission clothes, blue and yellow a stark contrast to the whiteness of the room. He looked down. Thankfully, he was not shirtless (he had a feeling he had been at some point) but he was now in the thin cotton shirt that most hospitals gave their patients. He groaned.

Michael seemed to understand. He smiled. "Shall I go get you some real clothes, Charles?" he inquired. Charles nodded meekly.

"That would be delightful, thank you Michael," he agreed. With a nod Michael patted Hank on the shoulder companionably (Charles assumed that Hank had already engaged him in mechanical and medical anomalies) and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Charles's grin wavered a bit as he asked Erik through their minds _are there any cameras in here?_

Erik cast him a surprised look before shaking his head. _Can they hear us?_ Another negative. _Good._

"Shaw?" Charles asked aloud, effectively getting to the reason they were here. The others stared at him, staggered by his swift change of demeanor and subject. Only Erik chuckled.

"Efficient as always, Charles," he observed ironically, crossing his arms.

"Well, we are alone now," Charles pointed out.

Moira snapped into agent mode, her eyes hardening as Raven came to sit on the edge of the bed, fingers intertwined with his. "He's dead," Charles glanced at Erik. The other man met his gaze levelly. Charles narrowed his eyes, they did not have time for that conversation right then, and Charles did not want everyone hearing it. _We'll talk about that later,_ he projected and Erik nodded.

"The radiation machine?" Charles went on; going down the list of worries he had had since remembering.

"Destroyed," Alex piped up in a way that let Charles know that he was very proud of that. "So that neither Americans nor Soviet's can use it," Charles exhaled.

"Good thinking," he agreed, nodding. "And Shaw's minions?"

"Currently stuck to a wall inside of the ship's prisons, courtesy of Erik," Raven piped up. Charles gave Erik a dry look, to which the metal-bender only grinned like a mischievous child. Charles could not help but smile back.

"I contacted headquarters," Moira told him grimly. "Congress is embroiled in a debate wondering what to do about you all," she gestured around, to Raven's blue skin and Alex's newly repaired suit. Powers that could topple countries.

"I imagine the whole world is," Charles agreed passively.

"For now we've been told to head back to D.C. It's been slow going, but the general assures me we'll reach the Capital in about a week," she reported. Charles nodded; his head spinning with these new thoughts. If they were going to D.C, he assumed that they would be taken prisoner the second they touched shore, especially if no one knew what to do with them yet.

Charles did not doubt that between the seven of them, they could avoid capture but for how long? And how would that help the Mutant/Human relations? Charles glanced at Erik, who was studying him intently. Without having to look, Charles knew that Erik was thinking about what Shaw had said about Mutant superiority. Charles was painfully aware that his friend still believed every word. A weight settled unto his shoulders, a boulder he imagined would not be easy to shake off.

 _This_ was not going to be easy.

Added to that, a queasy feeling suddenly sprang into his gut. He furrowed his brows as he felt for Michael's psyche across the ship, and the shock turning into deep sadness that was shooting through the good natured man. _He was looking at a piece of paper… Results of Charles's blood work… But what… No._ _ **No.**_

He paled. "Charles?" He looked up to realize that he had been staring into space. The others were regarding him as if he were a fragile animal. Charles gulped. Why did he feel as if he were going to get a lot more of those looks from now on?

"Michael is coming," he told them, forcing himself to sound calm. Perhaps it was nothing. Maybe… Just _maybe_... he had read Michael wrong. It had never happened before but there was a first time for everything. He had to be wrong.

"Charles, are you alright?" He didn't realize that he was nearly crushing Raven's fingers in a death grip. He could feel Michael-and the news he brought with him-coming down the hall. Charles tensed. He was going to be alright. He had not fought back to life just to live…Like this. Not like this. It didn't make sense. He couldn't feel his legs but that was just the result of shock. Parts of the nervous system would sometimes shut down and restart after a traumatic event, it was perfectly normal that he shouldn't feel his legs…

Wasn't it?

"Everything will be alright," he whispered, and did not realize that he said it out loud until Raven gently grabbed his chin and forced him to look into her yellow glowing eyes, filled with concern.

"Charles, what are you talking about?" he did not answer, instead only squeezed her wrist tightly in his own. He had to protect her. It had been his life's goal to make sure she was safe and happy since the day he had come upon her stealing cookies from his kitchen. If he couldn't…? Then how was he…? _No. No, don't do this to me,_ he begged whatever force drove the universe, whatever heaven decreed that actions happened. His heart was hammering in his chest. He had to be wrong. He must be.

Michael opened the door, holding a piece of paper in his hands, eyes wide and mouth set into a grim but determined line. He would tell Charles the truth, no matter how deeply it cut.

But Charles already knew. He gently took Raven's hands away from his face, still keeping tight hold on her. Then, with infinite emptiness, he tried to move his toes.

They wouldn't budge.

Charles closed his eyes, exhaled, and opened them again. Michael had not spoken. He only stared back at him. "Michael," Charles was ashamed when his voice broke. "My legs… I'll never use them again, will I?" Michael did not seem surprised that he knew. Instead, the doctor only nodded slowly.

"I'm so sorry Charles," Michael's eyes roved the room, taking in every detail and every person before he repeated again with perfect empathy:

"I'm so sorry."

* * *

Erik hated this room. Before today, it might have represented something else. Might have represented the way that each of them had come to connect as a sort of family unit, taking turns visiting Charles while he was unconscious, or the way that he and Moira worked like a well-oiled machine, her logistics fitting with his callousness in a way that sometimes disturbed him because after all, she was human. The room might have represented the joy which Erik had felt when Charles had finally woken up. All of this would have been represented by this sterile, tiny cubicle the day before.

Now, however, it stood for the way Raven had covered her mouth in horror. The way Alex and Sean had exchanged a look full of shock. The way Hank had nearly crumpled to his own knees and Moira had gripped his arm in a hold tight enough to break bones. It represented the way Erik's heart had broken for Charles.

Charles, the one who had merely closed his eyes in acceptance, and asked calmly and politely to be left alone. That had been hours ago, and in the hours since they had all found their different ways of coping with the fact that Charles Xavier would never stand again.

Raven and Alex had retreated to the gym, beating the hell out of a boxing bag and at times wrestling with one another with bodies honed with warped genetics and strengthened by rage and pain for their friend. Sean was screaming his heart out above the sea, swooping and diving so near to the surface that it had taken Erik's breath away to watch his unconcerned recklessness.

Moira was holed away in the ship's navigation room, going over plan after plan of what to do once they got to D.C, if things became violent, her mind concentrated on one undaunting task in her mind. Hank was somewhere else, probably drawing formulas for the cure he had sworn he would find Charles.

 _"_ _I will find a way, professor,"_ the young man had sworn as they ushered themselves out. _"I'll find a way to bring back your legs. I promise. I promise,"_ Charles had only smiled fondly at Hank, with no conviction at all.

And Erik? Erik was standing outside of the closed doors with a chess board in his hands, shaking. He was fully cognizant of the fact that Charles knew he was there, and also well aware that the blinds to the window had been closed and Charles had not called him in yet. He felt like an intruder, an imposter, as if it should have been him.

Shaw had been aiming for him. Not Charles. It wasn't fair.

And as he always did, Erik had messed it up. Charles probably despised him, and he had every right to hate him. He was never going to walk or run or even _crawl_ again; and all because he had saved the life of one broken, angry man. Charles deserved more. He deserved better. Erik bit back the tears beginning in his eyes, pondering whether he should go in and attempt to plead for forgiveness, or whether he should remain out here, where it was safe to assume he would never have any.

At length, he realized he did not have a choice in the matter. He _needed_ Charles. Whether or not the younger man needed him was not the question in dispute. Their world could be ending the second they landed on the shores of America. Erik would not spend what days of freedom he had left wondering about a forgiveness he did not deserve.

He opened the door.

The room was shadowed, bathed in darkness. Only a single lamp by Charles's bed and the blinking buttons of the machines he was hooked up too gave off any light. The lamp shed orange luminescence that reminded Erik of sunset. The blinking machine buttons were like stars winking at him from a prematurely darkening sky. The lack of light was fine with him. Erik could still see Charles lying in bed, eyes closed. There were dried tear tracks on his face, made orange and somber by the setting sun lamp.

Erik allowed the door to close behind him. Charles gasped as his eyes snapped open to reveal orbs dull with exhaustion and sadness. It occurred to Erik that Charles might actually have been asleep all this time instead of ignoring him. "I'm sorry," he blurted, very much so. "I didn't mean to wake you," Charles's eyes focused on him. He gave a flippant half shrug with his uninjured shoulder.

"It was not much of a sleep, admittedly," he replied softly. "Come in, Erik," the invitation given, Erik eased himself into the room. He moved the metal machines with a wave of his hand and settled into the chair by Charles's bedside. "What do you have there?" Charles asked weakly.

Erik smoothed the chess board out and delicately laid down the pieces. "I…" he gulped, glanced up, suddenly shy. "I thought you'd like to play," he gestured to the board. Charles smiled thinly.

"I'd like that," he agreed. Erik was setting the board on his knees when something occurred to him. He lifted it quickly, looking to Charles.

"Does that hurt?" he asked anxiously. Charles was staring at him with eyes that knew infinite secrets and sadness's.

"I don't feel a thing," he whispered. Erik felt his heart pang and set the board back down. He took his time putting down the pieces, setting them out one by one, took his time staring at anywhere but Charles's deep blue eyes, as immeasurable as the oceans. When he had set every piece down, he sat back and waited.

Charles always started. And he was always the white knight, pure and selfless. It suited his personality perfectly. Charles had been moving the back of his bed up with the automatic trigger while he waited for Erik to set the board. Now he sat up, eyes attentively scanning his playing field.

He moved his pawn. Erik countered lightning fast, his brain starting to get into the sluggish motion that signaled a clearing of the mind. The advantage of playing with a highly intelligent opponent. They remained like this for a number of minutes, without speaking.

Finally, Erik could stand the silence no longer. "How do you feel?" He asked at last, not looking up from his position. Charles hummed low in his throat, glancing up. His eyes were distant, his mind consumed by the game. Good. Anymore emotion and they both might burst.

"Where do I begin?" His friend asked softly. "One moment, I feel as if I am in a dream," he pushed aside Erik's pawn with a gracefulness that was slightly apologetic. "And I'll wake up any moment now, Raven pestering me to make her some hot chocolate," Erik let a small smile flicker across his face. Charles, on the other hand, was not smiling. "Then the next I feel…" Charles sat back with a sigh. "Useless. Helpless. More helpless than I have felt since I was a very young child. Erik… I feel so pathetic," Erik moved a bishop.

"It'll pass, Charles," he hoped so at any rate. "You'll come out on the other end of this, stronger," He hoped that Charles's innumerable strength would carry him through this. If it didn't, what use were the rest of them?

Charles's mouth danced in a tiny, sarcastic smile. "I'm afraid you'll have to have faith for the both of us, my friend," he said softly. Erik looked up, his hand stilling over a piece.

"You know faith isn't my strong suit Charles," he replied. Charles looked up. His eyes were sunken in with sadness.

"At the moment my friend? It is not mine either," Erik gulped. He hated seeing that look in Charles's eyes, those eyes which were usually so bright now dulled into helplessness. The only thing he hated more was the knowledge that this was his entire fault. Charles was paralyzed because of him.

"Do you hate me?" Erik asked softly. For one of the first times, Erik saw Charles surprised at something he had said. Every other time, Charles knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"Hate you?" The telepath echoed, staring at him with wide eyes. "Why would I hate you, Erik?" The metal-bender gulped, suddenly wishing he could take his words back. Of course it would not occur to Charles to purposefully hate someone. His mind just didn't work like Erik's did; it did not find blame or fault. Now Erik would have to answer, and tell him that he was the one to blame. Erik closed his eyes briefly and leaned back, steeling himself for the end of the first and only friendship he had.

"Because this is my fault," he bit out. "This happened because you had to come save me, Charles. After I betrayed you by donning that stupid helmet, you jumped in front of a gun to save me, and now you're paying the price," Erik opened his eyes and gazed into Charles's stormy blue eyes. He wanted Charles to know how sincere he was when he said the next thing. "I'm so very sorry, Charles. Truly I am, and… I would understand, if you never wanted to see me again," there. He said it.

And tore out his heart in the making. Erik hung his head and waited for Charles to comprehend just what he had done to him. For a long time, though, Charles was silent, processing Erik's words. Then, he did something that should not have surprised Erik so much as it did.

"You bloody idiot," Charles breathed, affectionately. Erik felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into eyes full of compassion and understanding. No hate, no anger, no resentment. It took Erik's breath away.

"Listen to me very carefully, my friend," Charles instructed in his wise teacher voice which always managed to snag Erik's complete attention. "I do not blame you, do you understand?" Erik could have sworn he felt his heart knitting itself back together, each stitch lovingly mended by Charles's words.

"What has happened to me is in no way your fault. In fact, it's mine," Charles continued, thoughtfully. "So far as I remember, I _chose_ to follow you into that submarine and I chose to try and stop Shaw. I _chose_ to jump in front of that gun. Shaw was going to kill you Erik, right in front of me," and now a crack of anger managed to sneak past Charles's guarded façade.

"I couldn't just _lay_ there and let it happen, and my telepathy wasn't working so I did the next best thing," Charles gave his shoulder a light squeeze before settling back into his place, still smiling at Erik affectionately. Erik stared at him, wondering if he was in the presence of an angel come to earth because… _How?_ How could Charles just feel no resentment or no fury, no hatred, no… Anything bad?

"You're my friend, Erik. If it was a contest between my legs or your life, I'd make the same decision every time with no regrets," Erik blinked rapidly to clear the hot blurriness from his eyes. When that did not work he attempted to clear his throat of the lump lodged there and found that it worked even less. Finally, he had to look down and away, overcome with emotion.

"Charles…" he breathed. "I… You… Why?" That was the ultimate question. All of his life Erik had been hated, feared, reviled, tortured and hunted. No one had liked him since his parents died. He had assumed no one ever would even be able to stand his presence for more than few weeks let alone give their lives for him. He wasn't that special, so why? Why would Charles ever…?

His friend-first friend- smiled indulgently. "Because Erik, your life is important to me. You're my friend," and it was as simple as that. Somehow Erik had expected it to be more. Charles had nearly given his life away because of something so small as a word like _friendship_? It was beyond comprehension.

So Erik did not try to comprehend it. Instead, he accepted this new thing in his life called friendship. His fingers swooped, captured one of Charles's Knights. "Thank you, my friend," Charles dipped his head, acknowledging the thanks and swiftly plucked another of his Knights from the board. They shared an identical smile and in that moment, despite all that was happening around them, Erik knew that some of their faith had been restored.


	5. Chapter 5

Sean liked to sleep. He liked sleeping a lot. He did not know whether it was because he was still a growing boy or because sleeping had always been a good way to escape the harsh and unforgiving world which he had been born into. He did not really take the time to ponder it. Deep, introspective thoughts weren't his forte. They required that he be awake and attentive. He was not good at that. He liked sleeping.

Beyond that fact, Sean could sleep like the dead, or so he had been told. He believed it too, even though the only time he had ever gotten a real good night's rest had been at the mansion. Which was surprising, since they had gone there after Darwin had died. He had expected to have nightmares, but no; they started up later and with growing frequency.

 _The night images of Darwin's body crumbling into ash before their eyes, Angel's cold eyes as she stared at them and he knew she thought they were cowards and babies, a building exploding and shaking around them, the ship spiraling from the air, Charles's lifeless body held in Erik's arms…._

He sat up with a strangled gasp, eyes desperately searching the darkness of the small closet as his mind spun with the visages of his nightmare. He sat there, drenched in sweat and gasping. _Thank goodness I'm not a screamer_ , he thought, clapping a hand over his mouth just in case a destructive frequency popped out.

His heart was hammering against his chest and Sean found himself suddenly very much wishing for a nightlight. He could barely see anything. Not that there was much to see. They were in a storage closet, after all. It was bare, containing little more than two beds and a bare light bulb. They had been lucky to get that. Raven had been angry that they were given closets to sleep in instead of being able to bunk with the rest of the men. The General had snorted at her outrage.

 _"_ _This is a military vessel, not a hotel Miss,"_ he had informed her _. "We don't have any more room than was designed for us to have. Besides, you'd be the only girl in a room of hormonal men. Does that sound like fun?"_ Raven had glared at him, smoldering because despite the logic of what he said, they all knew the real reason that they were not assigned regular bunks. It was because they were Mutants.

Sean glanced at the bed across the room where Alex usually was. The other mutant was not there. _What time is it?_ He had the distinct feeling it was late at night and he remembered Erik telling them to go to bed. Though, Sean should not have been surprised. Alex was respectful enough when it came down to it, and especially to Erik after hearing what the guy had been through in the camps, but that did not mean he followed directions. Just that when the time came for him to apologize for not following directions, he would be polite about the whole affair.

As long as he wasn't in trouble, he could care less. Sean flung his legs over his bed, grateful that he still had the ability to use them. He had never before noticed how much he liked walking by himself until he heard that Charles would not be able to do it anymore. He moaned as he stretched his arms above his head. He really did not feel like going to back to sleep. In fact, he was unsure if he could. Maybe he should go find Moira or one of the soldiers to play around with. He could even use his sonic to fly over the water for awhile. Hank had fixed his suit…

A small noise from Alex's side of the room. Sean perked up. He did not have super-hearing like Hank or Raven and he was no mind-reader, but he knew a suspicious noise when he heard one. He had years experience watching horror movies to prove it. Unfortunately, the movies never explained the intelligent way to respond the small noise besides get eaten or possessed, neither of which was an option for him.

 _I'm being stupid_ , he thought, squinting into the dark. _There's nothing there. It's probably just Alex._

Just to check, he tried it. "Alex? Is that you?" no reply but he undeniably saw something move. Sean felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He let out a nervous laugh. "Hey, whoever you are, I know you're there," thanks to the days Erik had spent training each of them in blindfolded night techniques. "Might as well come out and get my autograph, or whatever you're here for," the joke fell flat as a small growl filled the silence of the room.

Despite not having perfect hearing Sean deciphered two words easily enough. "Die, freak." His blood ran cold.

Suddenly Charles was shouting in the depths of his head. _Sean, get out of there!_

Sean felt a sharp pain, and then saw a flash of light.

He screamed.


	6. Chapter 6

"What are we going to do once we get to D.C?" Charles was not surprised by the question. Indeed he had been expecting it at some point but after everything that had happened to him lately he had rather been hoping that Erik would have waited until morning.

Erik was not the most patient man in the world however. He sat in his chair, looking every inch the emotionless businessman as he surveyed the board with one leg thrown over a knee and arms crossed. Charles moved his piece and sat back. He sincerely wished he could have had vodka before he was asked this question.

"It depends on how we're received," he replied mildly.

"You know how we'll be received, with fear and hatred. Violence too, more than likely. It is inevitable Charles. I suppose my real question is how are we going to react to our reception?" Erik was not looking at him as he said this, but Charles could hear the hard edge in his friends' voice. He had his mind made up about humans, and it was times like these when Charles doubted that he could change that.

"We're going to be the better man, Erik," a sardonic cock of the eyebrow implied disagreement. Erik's mouth tensed into a straight line of mockery.

"Ah, yes. The Pacifists way," he chuckled darkly.

Charles felt a migraine coming. He held his ground. "It is the only way to bring peace," a swift counterstrike to an attack on his defenses.

Erik dodged the counter. "Whoever said anything about peace?" He asked.

An easy enough question. "The people who don't want world domination," he replied calmly.

Erik glanced up. "We're the next stage in evolution Charles. We're designed by nature to dominate. The humans know this, and they will fight it. They will hunt us, and if we don't do something now, our time on this Earth will end," he gave his inspiring lecture on unity and purpose. Charles gave a sardonic smile of his own.

"Ah, but if we're designed by nature to dominate then it won't matter what the humans do to us now will it? Whether we are at war or live in peace with them, eventually this world will be overtaken by mutants. We've already won the survival game my friend, now all that remains is to begin building the foundations of a new race," his King stepped into place, regally. "A race built on the foundations of peace and tolerance." Erik sneered.

"You don't honestly believe the humans will allow that? That they won't hate us and want to annihilate us?" His Queen was suddenly there, a square off. Charles looked up into eyes fierce with the fires of genocide.

"I'm sure they already do," white and black gleamed in the orange lamplight. "But I have observed that fear is a state of mind, my friend. It will take time, but if we overturn that state…"

"A very pretty ideal, Charles, but unrealistic. When a man points a gun at the head of your sister, are you going to be the better man or a brother?" Erik's Queen was swept away with a bit more force than was necessary. Charles allowed a deep exhaled to smear away the panic and rage that had suddenly consumed him at the idea of his sister in danger. Erik smiled bitterly, aware of Charles's subtle slip of control.

He retraced his steps, doubled back into calmness once more. "That was a low blow, Erik," the truth stung.

Erik shrugged. "Just pointing out something that could save your life," he sounded very smug for a man who had not even ten minutes before been consumed by guilt.

Charles forced himself to remain unperturbed. He stroked his chin, feeling the coarseness beneath his fingers. "Then let me return the favor. Your mother was a human," Erik stiffened. "It was a mutant who ended her life," he was walking a thin line and he knew it, but somehow he doubted Erik would kill him.

Maim him probably, but perhaps it was just for the best. He couldn't feel his blasted legs anyway. He looked up into Erik's shocked and enraged eyes, steepling his fingers together. "Just pointing out something that could save your soul," he said.

Erik growled low in his throat and the metal in the room shook briefly before stilling once more. At last, Erik only shook his head, a small smile on his face. He raised his defeated piece in a salute.

"Touché, my friend," the conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, their minds retreating from the emotions evoked into the game. Unexpectedly, Charles felt a disturbance in the general smoothness of minds. He narrowed his eyes. _Sean._

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. _"Alex? Is that you?"_ he heard the young man call out, and he knew it wasn't Alex. Alex was on the deck of the ship watching the waves roll by and thinking about his family. There was someone else in that room with Sean, someone who shouldn't have been there…

"Erik," the other man straightened, immediately on alert. He knew that tone of voice. He studied Charles's face in the light, eyes attentive, body ready. Charles could swear sometimes Erik read _his_ mind. It was disconcerting.

"What is it?"

"Get to Sean's room. Now!" Whoever was there with the boy, he was hostile. Worse than that, he was armed. Erik shot to his feet without question. Flinging himself out of the doorway and down the hall.

Charles pressed two fingers to his forehead and stretched his mind out further. He shoved an urgent message into the young man's mind. _Sean, get out of there!_

It was too late. The intruder had sprung. Charles watched through Sean's eyes as the shadow of the room came to life, jumping from hiding at him. He felt a sharp pain in his head and cringed. Thankfully, Sean was not damaged too badly. Charles smiled when the young man let out a shrill shriek that smashed the intruder against the opposite wall.

 _Well done, my boy,_ he thought as he then entered the man's mind, effectively taking control. The door to the small alcove swung open, revealing Erik standing in the doorway.

"Sean?"

A hand on Sean's shoulder. Erik could be exceptionally kind when he put his mind to it. Sean was wobbling where he stood, gasping for breath. _Bring him here, Erik, he has a head injury. I've frozen his attacker. Meld him to a wall, would you?_ Charles directed. Grumbling something unflattering about humans, Erik did as he was ordered, bending the metal wall around the attacker so it encased him like a cocoon. Charles released his hold on his mind.

"Ugh, let me go freak!" the intruder cried out, angrily. "I'll kill you all!" This could be a problem. Charles harrumphed beneath his breath. Sean didn't deserve this treatment. He had just saved the blasted world.

"Professor?" Sean mumbled dizzily, as he leaned on Erik.

 _I'm here, Sean. You'll be alright. Erik will bring you here, and Moira will patch you up_ , because if this had happened to Sean there was nothing stopping it from happening to them all. He saw the same thought in Erik's head as he steered Sean from the room towards him.

Charles relaxed into his bed, sweat lining his brow. Usually, that feat would be nothing for him. He had done much more, but as weak as he was… He stilled his throbbing headache with a mental shove of willpower before opening his eyes. A moment later, Erik walked Sean into the room and gently helped him sit. The poor boy was still hyperventilating, his eyes wide as he shakily allowed Erik to seat him.

Charles laid a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you Erik," he said as Sean looked to him with frightened eyes. "Could you fetch the others? I'm afraid I can't…" he waved vaguely in the direction of his head. Erik understood the sign and scowling (furious) he stalked from the room to find the others.

"Oh dear," Charles muttered watching him go. He was really going to hear it now. He turned his attention to his young charge. "Now, are you quite alright, Sean?" he asked. Sean nodded slowly.

"Yeah," he tried to smile casually as he ran a hand through his fiery orange hair. "Just jumpy, I guess. Am I bleeding?" He reached up to the gently swelling bump on his forehead.

Charles caught his hand before he could press at the bump. "No," he replied gently. "You're not. Hold still though, he gave you a knock there," Sean nodded and lowered his hand, gazing at Charles with such trust that his heart panged. He squeezed Sean's shoulder again. "You behaved admirably, Sean. You even exerted your power responsibly. I'm proud," Sean smiled at him, eyes sparkling.

"Thanks, Professor. I guess I should thank _you,_ though. If you hadn't frozen that guy when you did, well," Sean shrugged, uncomfortably. "He had a knife, and I'm pretty sure he knew how to use it," Sean shuddered. Charles leaned in.

"I have every confidence that you would have handled yourself, and well. Besides, Erik was on his way the second I heard you were in danger. You're never alone, Sean, remember that. A million miles away," he tapped his temple meaningfully. "You'll still be in here. I'll always know when you need me," the pure smile of gratitude Sean bequeathed him banished his migraine completely.

"Thanks, Prof," Sean quipped. His eyes slid to the door where Erik would come in with the others any moment now. "Erik is going to go on another Mutant superiority rampage, isn't he?" Once again, Charles found himself surprised that night. He hadn't known that Erik gave those lectures to the children as well. He would have to have a _word_ with him about that.

"I'm afraid so," he agreed. Sean nodded sagely, eyes grave, before he suddenly brightened into the impish boy that Charles knew so well.

"Want some ear plugs?" he offered. Charles couldn't help but chuckle, even if it made his shoulder and back ache.

"That is rude and inconsiderate of us, Sean," he scolded. Sean nudged Charles playfully.

"That's a yes, then?"

Charles grinned. "Only if they come in blue," he quipped.

"Why blue?"

"Raven was talking about a mutant state flag last week," had they only been at the mansion a week ago? "She insisted that it be blue. She said it represented loyalty to each other… _I_ think she's going through a vain phase,"

"Isn't she always?"

"Careful there Sean," Charles wagged a finger at him. "That's my sister you're talking about,"

"Sorry Professor, I meant to say, isn't that Alex's job?" Charles could not help but chuckle softly at the jibe. They laughed softly together conspiratorially and once again, Charles was very glad to be alive.

"What happened!?" That was Raven storming into the room, eyes searching every crevice and corner for enemies. Not for the first time, Charles thought that she was very scary when she was worried.

"A guy with a knife tried to knock me out," Sean supplied as the others packed into the room.

"What?" Hank asked, interrupting himself mid yawn to stare incredulously at Sean, more specifically his swelling forehead.

"He was _trying_ to kill you," Erik corrected furiously.

"Dude," Alex turned to Sean, brows furrowed in worry. "You okay?" Charles gestured for Moira to come nearer. She did so, a first aid kit in hand. There was genuine concern in her deep brown eyes as she knelt before Sean, quickly getting out the compression bag. He let her mother hen him tolerantly.

"I'm fine," he assured them. "I screamed at him, Charles froze him and then Erik wrapped him in the wall," he explained the general going on's of the epic battle. Alex's shoulders relaxed a fraction as he walked over and ruffled Sean's wild hair affectionately.

"Awesome," he approved.

"Who was he?" Moira asked, glancing between Charles, Erik and Sean.

"A damned Neanderthal!" Erik fumed. Hank looked reasonably alarmed.

"A caveman attacked you?" he asked Sean.

Sean's dimples showed when he laughed. "Totally. He said 'ugh, fire,' and everything," he told them cheerily. Charles was hard pressed not to laugh. He exchanged a glance with Moira. Her eyes were sparkling.

Alex's eyes twinkled. "Man, you didn't even offer him a banana or a squirrel or anything? Shoot, I would have tried to knock you out too," he snickered.

Hank frowned at the misinformation. "Neanderthals did not eat bananas or squirrels, Alex," he told him knowingly.

"Weren't there coconuts on Cuba? Alex, man, we should have grabbed him a coconut! He already had a knife to pop that bad boy open. I've never had a real coconut before…" Charles cleared his throat loudly, briefly ending the endless conversation of jokes and riddles that Alex and Sean seemed to have concocted as their natural language.

"Sean, as happy as I am to see you acting normal, I'm afraid we have to get the facts here," Sean's smile fell. Charles looked at Hank. "Erik was referring to a human, Hank. Erik, please remember that a human is in the room with us _before_ you spout insults. Now, the man's name is George Albani. He's an engineer on board. I'm afraid he doesn't exactly approve of our presence on the ship, and yes, his intention was to stab you Sean," the boy gulped and nodded.

"This is just what I was telling you Charles!" Erik piped in heatedly. "It's already begun and we haven't even reached shore. The humans won't stop until we're all dead in our beds…" Moira cocked a brow, but said nothing. She was bandaging Sean's head.

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. "Erik, enough. The actions of one man should not condemn a nation. If humans based us all on the actions of Shaw…"

"Which they will!"

"Which we will strive to make sure they _don't_ , then we'd all be mass murderers, now wouldn't we? Besides, this is not about human/mutant relations yet. This is about the man you melded into a wall. What are we going to do about him?" Erik's eyes sparked with viciousness.

"We could send a message and end this now. We will _not_ be intimidated," he growled. Charles scowled.

"Bad message," he decided instantly. "Moira?"

"What do you mean a message, Erik?" Raven piped in before Moira could speak. She was staring at Erik, a strange light in her eyes that Charles had never seen before.

Erik crossed his arms. "I mean that people will only do what we allow them. If we allow this man to go free despite what he's done, others will do it. We can't just stand here and let that happen. We have to send a clear message _now_ ," he asserted.

"By doing what?" Alex asked hesitantly. Erik tipped his chin.

"We will put him in the brig ourselves, and make sure he knows that a knife won't have been enough to protect him," the details of what he meant went unspoken but not unknown. Charles shuddered. This was the side of his friend that Shaw had built, the monster behind the man…

"So you want to abuse a man and play judge and jury on a ship that isn't yours, because you can?" Hank specified, pushing his glasses up. He narrowed his eyes. "That sounds like bullying to me, Erik," he said. _Well, at least someone has sense,_ Charles thought triumphantly.

Erik was persistent. "It's what has to be done to defend ourselves!" He hissed.

"That's what I did," Sean pointed out. "We used our powers to restrain him. He's not a threat to us anymore. Why do we need to do anything else?" Charles sat back and enjoyed the show. Finally, it wasn't just him arguing with Erik anymore.

Raven stepped up to Erik's side. "Because it will happen again if we don't," she spoke up, and Charles felt as if someone had punched him the gut. What was she _doing_? Erik cocked a brow at her, looking a bit surprised himself. "Erik is right; we can't just let this go. If we want to be treated fairly, we're going to have to _fight_ for that right," her yellow eyes flashed. "Especially if we come out of hiding, and I don't know about you guys, but I'm tired of hiding," The men in the room opened their mouths to argue, but before they could Moira broke in.

"Alright, I'm choosing not to be offended by the fact that I risked my life to help you all, and yet I'm still the bad guy," she announced calmly, effectively silencing them all.

"We aren't talking about humans like you, Moira," Hank hurried to assure her. Moira ignored him, standing and fixing each person in the room with a stern look.

"What I'm wondering is this: whoever said you had to hide? Whoever told you specifically; you have to hide who you are?" That question momentarily stumped all of them. Then, sounding thoughtfully, Raven piped up with a definite answer which made him cringe.

"Charles," all eyes turned to him.

"I never said you had to hide who you were, dear," he pointed out mildly. "Just what you looked like," there was a difference, he had learned. Raven narrowed her eyes at him, and he saw anger whiplash there. _I have a bad feeling about this_ , he thought.

Erik's mind was churning. "What I'd like to know," he said, and his voice was low in danger. "Is why it is you have such a faith that humanity will accept us Charles, and yet you told your sister to hide what she looked like from them," _I'd like to know why it is you don't think I could send you into an apoplectic shock with a mere thought right now…_

Charles felt annoyance prick beneath his skin. Erik was beginning to push his limits, and he was sure that the metal-bender knew it. "If you'd been listening to my arguments the past however many weeks, Erik," he replied, trying to keep the bite out of his voice. "You would remember that I never denied there would be violence. I never denied that humans would fear us, or hate us. I just said that _eventually,_ they would come to understand us," he reasserted.

Erik snorted. "That's easy to say when you're just like everyone else, when you look like everyone else," Hank's eyes went to the floor. Raven's hands clenched into fists. Sean and Alex looked suitably frightened. Charles felt his tongue burn with all the things he could say but knew he wouldn't.

"Did you suddenly turn blue, Erik?" he wondered sarcastically.

"I don't have too," Erik replied darkly. He pointed to the numbers burned into his arm. "I was branded with a yellow star and told that I was different because of that. Along with thousands of others. We didn't have the choice to _hide_ , Charles. Like Hank and Raven don't have the choice any more to _hide._ And why should they? Why shouldn't they begin a new era by showing who they are?"

Annoyance had become anger now. "Because they don't want to die," Sean answered in Charles's stead, his eyes flickering between the two of them as if he expected one to explode.

"That is what will happen to hundreds and thousands more if we don't set the stage now, Sean," Raven replied, switching her furiously glowing eyes to Sean and Alex. "How many will have to die before we do something about it? How many people have already been crushed beneath the stress of hiding?" she demanded.

"So that's your justification?" Alex snapped; his own eyes aflame. "For torturing a man and hurting innocent people? You want to set an example? Hank is right. You only say you want to do that because _you can._ And that's being a bully, picking on the younger kid on the playground,"

"That's what they've done to us!"

"Oh, and I guess it's real moral to just do it back then huh? Be the big, bad tough guy? He pushed me so I'll push him? Walk away Raven. Grow up," this was not going to go well. Moira seemed to agree. She raised her hands pacifically, trying for a soothing tone. But Charles knew that look in his sisters eyes. _Oh, no…_

"Okay before this gets out of hand…"

"Are you _kidding_ me? Walk away? That's your grown-up solution Alex, run away from your problems? _Hide?"_ She hissed.

"It's not hiding, its being the bigger man!"

"No, it's being too weak to do what needs to be done!"

"Enough," Charles ordered, and to reinforce what he said, he used his telepathy to clamp both mouths shut. Raven and Alex both turned to him, eyes wide with shock.

Erik clapped his hands mockingly. "So that's your solution," he supposed. "Silence all who oppose you. Very democratic, Charles!" Charles sent Erik a death glare.

"Erik so help me, I will clamp your mouth shut too!" Erik drew his shoulders back. His mouth was set into a grave line.

"I've been silenced before, Charles," he heard the sound of bending metal, and felt his heart skip a beat. "Don't try to do it again," now it was Hank raising his hands passively, looking around as if he suspected the world had gone mad. Charles was of the same opinion.

"Alright. It's been a long day, and we're all tired and stressed. Maybe we should pick this back up in the…"

"And what I'd like to know Charles; is what gives you the right to speak on any of this?" Charles released Raven and Alex with a stern look to quell any rebellion. Raven was fairly jumping with her defiance, but she knew better than to try him. He would exhaust himself into unconsciousness before he let her wake the entire ship and beat a man senseless. Alex gritted his teeth tightly, obviously unhappy, but remained silent whether out of respect or self-preservation Charles did not care. That being taken care of, Charles inhaled and exhaled a deep breath before turning back to Erik.

"What?" He was getting too old for this.

Erik still had that predatory look on his face. "Raven and Hank have had to disguise themselves all their lives. I know what it's like to be singled out. Alex and Sean have had to suppress and bury their powers their entire lives. Even _Moira_ ," he flung his arm out to indicate the human. "Has faced discrimination because she's a woman. You're the only one in this room who seems to know little but talk much. After all," a slithering, resentful smile.

"You grew up in the _lap of luxury,_ so why should I believe a word of what you say?" Charles stared at Erik, suddenly speechless. It was not exactly what Erik said that disturbed him but rather that Charles had never thought of it that way. None of it was true of course, but the way Erik made it sound… he supposed it was very hypocritical.

"I have a reason," once again, he was surprised in a single night. All eyes, smoldering, went to Moira, who stood at Charles's side as if she fancied herself his personal bodyguard. "How about this? The man you just insulted jumped in front of a _bullet_ for you," Erik's eyes wavered.

"I wonder why," Alex muttered.

"And if that doesn't strike you as pertinent," Moira was nearly trembling with outrage. Charles laid a hand on her arm to calm her. It didn't work. "Then take into consideration that you would not have found Shaw if Charles hadn't offered up his _lap of luxury money_ to get you here. It seems you," her eyes switched from Erik to Raven. "Love to take and blame. I suggest you work on giving and listening," she said.

 _Moira,_ Charles said, quieting her with gentle press against her mind. _Thank you for your support but I believe they understand._ Moira turned her smoldering brown eyes to him. He stared back, and they had a moment of understanding before Moira just let a long breath whoosh from her lungs. She nodded to his remark.

"I think I'll go let the general know about the man Erik melded into a wall," she announced before huffily stalking out of the room. The door slammed closed behind her with an unambiguous _jolt_ that sent a tingle of pain into Charles's spine. Sean whistled beneath his breath, impressed or scared or both. Charles rubbed his forehead.

Erik was the first to speak. "She's right," he said at last, and he sounded appropriately guilty. "I was out of line. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry Charles," Charles sighed and gazed back at his friend.

"Always forgiven, my friend," he kissed Raven on the forehead when she came to squeeze his hand in silent apology. "And I'm sorry too. I've lived with my telepathy for so long now; I forget that it gives me a rather unfair advantage. I knew about each of your pasts the second I met you. Albeit, without trying," he hurried to reiterate when he saw Alex and Hank pale.

"But it still isn't fair. I imagine you would wonder why you should trust me," he sighed and closed his eyes. At times, he wished that it were so simple. That he were as hypocritical as they thought.

"We don't think that Charles," Hank hurried to interject, his own eyes full of worry. "We trust you with our lives. You're a good person," mumbles of agreement, sincere but embarrassed, arose from the others. Charles smiled gently.

"I appreciate that Hank, but that does not make it any less right," his heart should not be hammering so.

"I don't know what they would need to see," Raven tried to joke when she saw the nervousness on his face. He had never… Well, he had never opened up to _anyone_ before. As Raven had teased, she had been his only friend for the longest time. He had never wanted nor needed anyone else. And now…Now he had these people whose respect and friendship he wanted. Whose trust he needed for the times ahead, when he was not sure he would be able to stand on his own, literally or metaphorically. "Your life is pretty boring, Charles," he smiled fondly at her.

"Not quite so boring, my dear," his eyes flashed with pain. "Not as boring as I always had you believe," he saw confusion appear in her eyes, and knew that even if he was not ready to reveal it, she was ready to know. She was ready to know the truth of that house.

"Come here, children. Link hands," he extended a hand. Raven grabbed it first, never taking her eyes from him. Charles smiled reassuringly, even if his heart was hammering and his palms were sweaty.

"What are we doing?" Sean asked as he grabbed Raven's hand. Alex grabbed his and Hank slipped his hands into the circle. Erik stood on the other side of him and grabbed his own palm.

"I'm too weak to directly transmit into your minds," Charles explained begrudgingly. "And touch helps the connection," his explanation had little effect. He received only blank stares in reply.

Finally, Erik caught on. "We're going to see your past the way you see ours," he gasped. Charles nodded and could not help but chuckle a bit.

"Admittedly, when I see them they are in fragments and considerably more gentle than I'll have to be. My brain naturally picks up floating thoughts. Your minds will be less cooperative, I imagine," he said.

"Have you done this before?" Sean asked nervously. Charles could only snicker.

"What do you think I'm doing whenever I use telepathy to speak to you, my friend? Now close your eyes and relax. I will not hurt you," he hoped he would not at any rate.

"Charles," Erik said softly while the others closed their eyes. His eyes were limpid with understanding, and trust. "You know you don't have to do this. Whatever secrets you know about us, you know through circumstance and we trust you with them. You don't owe us anything," he told him, and Charles felt himself relax a bit at the pure sincerity in Erik's voice. The man was a hot head, but he had a good heart, one which always seemed to know what to say to calm Charles.

"Oh, but I do my friend. I owe you the same trust you all have bestowed upon me. Now, close your eyes," Erik gave a half smile and obeyed, relaxing as he did so. Charles inhaled a deep breath, hoping he had enough energy to do this, and recalled the years of his childhood. The nightmare he had been hoping to leave behind.

"I was nine years old," he began softly, as he expanded his mind into a large bubble, encasing the psyches in the room within. "When I first began hearing voices in my head. The world was a very different place back then…"


	7. Chapter 7

_"_ _Charles, come get your dinner dear!" The nine-year-old in question, all wide blue eyes and a thick head of auburn curls set on a round face and boyish expression, looked up and scowled._

 _"_ _Mother! I am reading Shakespeare!" he called over his shoulder into the elaborate dining room where a blonde-haired woman, all deep and kindly gray eyes and small, pink lips with a angelic face, was scurrying around holding a dish in her hands. She chuckled at his whining._

 _"_ _Shakespeare will be there when you return, young man. Now come, and… Oh, there you are dear. Have you been reading ancient texts as well?" She asked, kissing a mustached man on the cheek. His face, a manicured statue of high cheekbones and hair as brown ass autumn leaves, his shoulders were set, straight. He had the look of a man used to being obeyed and his blue eyes held an intelligence which marked him as an accomplished scholar._

 _"_ _Only a bit," he replied, grinning as he set his briefcase down. "Nothing as advanced as our boy, though, yes? What is your choice of poetry this time? Macbeth, Cleopatra and Marc Antony? You seem to like betrayal and poisonings," this news seemed to delight the old man as he leaned over Charles's shoulder to get a peek at the reading._

 _Charles smiled at his father, eyes shining. "Julius Caesar," he corrected proudly. The other man's eyes brows shot up._

 _"_ _Betrayal and stabbing? Why, Charles, you're getting more brutal. Well, what do you think then? Is Brutus a traitor or a savior?" He wondered. Charles's lips puckered into a thoughtful expression._

 _"_ _He assassinated his friend," he pointed out. "But he did it because Caesar was becoming a dictator. He did it because he thought what he was doing was the right thing. So… he's both, I suppose," he looked to his father, wondering if this was the correct answer._

 _"_ _I say he was a man who listened when his mother called him for dinner!" The woman informed them of her seasoned opinion. Charles's father had the same contemplative look on his face that his son did now, though, his concentration on the pages his son was absorbed in. He opened his mouth, suddenly interrupted by a shrill sound that permeated the very air._

 _Everyone froze as the sound of planes flying overhead broke through the walls, which then began to shake and tremble. Charles was out of his seat in a second, gasping out the word which had become like Armageddon all over the English Empire. "Bombers!"_

 _"_ _Quickly now! We have to get to the bomb shelter!" With the speed of a family that had practiced the moves many times, the threesome snatched coats and bags full of supplies before rushing out into the darkening streets. Giant plane lights sat on the ground manned by men in uniforms, being shined into the sky. A few dark objects whizzed overhead. From their bellies came small circular objects._

 _Charles stumbled after his mother, hand gripped firmly within both of his parents as they splashed through puddles blackened with soot, past the houses already destroyed and laid bare and crumbling like skeletons, beneath sky that had no stars or light but plenty of planes and death… Past the men sitting next to the plane lights, desperate to catch sight of the attacking Germans before they could drop anymore bombs. London, once part of Julius Caesar's empire itself, was under one of the most brutal sieges in human history._

 _Its citizens fled their homes quietly, their minds consumed by the one dire need to get underground before… "Down!" Charles screamed as he was pushed forward by his father, who grabbed his mother and dove to the ground next to him._

 _A few feet away, the ground trembled so much it threw Charles into the air like a bucking bronco. He heard the sound of men screaming, and a newly made fire suckling itself into life._

 _He laid his head in his arms, gasping for breath and trembling as the ground shook again. All over the city where he had been born, the ground shook with bombs. He hated bombs, he hated bombs, he hated…_

 _"_ _Timothy!" Charles gasped as he heard the voice of a woman scream the name. He looked around, and saw a now familiar sight. Men and women limping away from the sight of disaster, still struggling to the underground and the safety it held. Houses burning and men running with buckets of water to put it out. Where were his parents?_

 _"_ _Kayla! Kayla, where are you?" He spun around to his hands and knees. He could have sworn that the voices weren't coming from the outside…_

 _"_ _Come help me!"_

 _"_ _Fire, fire, put it out!"_

 _"_ _Get down!"_

 _"_ _No! Please, no!" Emotions crashed down upon him. Anger, despair, fear, horror, sadness, grief and searing, searing agony. Charles cried out with the sudden influx as his heart beat rapidly in time with everyone else in the entire world. He swung left, right, searching for the source of the images and sounds assaulting his head, but saw nothing but blurriness as more and more fragments kept coming, bringing with them emotions and sounds that he did not want._

 _His ears rung with the screams of women. He could see the flames, see the exploding houses and… Something else, something more…_

 _Places. Dreadful, horrible places where smoke came from giant machines and the skies turned red and people were marched into the forest where their screams intensified but no one came, no one came…_

 _Battlefields where men were standing one minute and then the next lying on the ground with their heads leaking droplets of blood and the sound of grenades and gunshots nearly ear-shattering…_

 _Other parts of the world where women bent, anguished and afraid, over a letter with an official and splendid seal which told them horrible and dreadful news painted in gold and red…._

 _Charles screamed. He grabbed his head, which saw and felt every pain all at once, and screamed and screamed._

 _"_ _Get down!"_

 _"_ _Oh, no! My brother is dead, my brother!"_

 _"_ _London Bridge is falling down, falling down…London Bridge is falling down…"_

 _"_ _Don't worry. It's only a shower…"_

 _"_ _We're all going to die!"_

 _"_ _Please, help us!_ _ **Help us!"**_ _And by the time his parents found him in the smoke and ash of London, he had screamed himself hoarse. He just lay on the ground, curled into a ball and silent tears running down his face as he watched the world around him burn, one agonizing life at a time._

 _"_ _Why did you scream, darling? Are you afraid?" A shake of the head._

 _"_ _Are you sick? Did you see something… Bad?"Charles did not look up. His father grabbed his chin and forced him to look up, but he didn't really see him. And he couldn't explain past the sobs coming from his mouth. The other inhabitants of the underground sat around and listened as he whispered over and over again:_

 _"_ _The world is burning, mama. The world is on fire. The world is on fire!"_

* * *

 _The family Doctor for the Xavier's was an old, blonde-haired man, who had so many bags beneath his eyes that he looked like a ghost, and his pale skin and dull eyes did not help. He examined Charles emotionlessly, poking and prodding. Charles watched him anxiously, desperate to get any kind of medicine that would stop the visions from coming again. They had stopped for awhile, but they always came back._

 _His parents were near their wits end. After a month of listening to their child scream almost every night, they looked as sleepless as the doctor. His mother had her arms wrapped around him from behind, pressing gentle kiss after gentle kiss to his curls as she watched the doctor inspect him. His father stood behind them both, watching the doctor with eyes that trusted him too much for his own good. It took an eternity for the elder to inspect Charles. When he was done, he shook his head and stuffed his supplies into his bag. "Voices, you say?" Charles nodded._

 _"_ _Yes, sir,"_

 _"_ _And visions? Of what?"_

 _Charles shivered. "People dying. People crying. The world burning," he felt tears build up again and whimpered. "The world has burned so many times… Please, sir, what's wrong with me?" The doctor eyed him suspiciously before pointing to the door of his clinic._

 _"_ _Wait outside for your parents," he ordered. Charles was surprised by the sudden harsh tone, but he obeyed numbly. His mother let him go with a soft reassurance and his father gave him a smile as he left._

 _As soon as he was out, Charles pressed his ear to the door without hesitation. "What is your diagnosis, Geoffrey?"_

 _A deep and troubled sigh from the elder. "Do you trust me, Mr. Xavier?" He suddenly asked. Charles knew without seeing that his father was tapping his foot, eager to pace. "Of course Geoffrey. You've served my family faithfully for years. You cured me of smallpox when I was young. I respect you as I would a brother. Now, my boy?" But the doctor was not forthcoming with answers._

 _"_ _Do you know why London is being targeted, Mr. Xavier?" He felt his father's confusion. His mother's tight worry._

 _"_ _Because we're at war, of course,"_

 _"_ _Oh, please, sir. You're an educated man. We're being punished for our sins," Charles gasped out loud. His mother did as well._

 _"_ _Sir, I don't understand…"_

 _"_ _That is why the government is sending away all of our children, to the countryside. There is a curse upon this city and only a few will survive. It has been ordained by providence," Charles felt a shiver go through his body. This couldn't be right. This couldn't be so…_

 _A stunned silence before his mother spoke. "But what does that have to do with Charles?"_

 _"_ _Because the demons that inhabit this city have been preying on the minds of men. I've seen a few cases like it all over London. Voices in the head, sounds, feelings of evil and doom. Unnatural urges. We're being condemned, our children taken over."_

 _Charles was shaking with terror. He heard his mother gasp. "By what?"_

 _"_ _By demons, Mrs. Xavier. I'm afraid Charles is being slowly possessed by… A devil," his world crashed into a hole of terror and anguish. Charles could barely hear over the blood now rushing his ears._

 _"_ _No," he whispered, as tears leaked down his face._

 _His mother was weeping. "There must be something we can do…" His father was desperate, pleading._

 _"_ _The only way to expel him is to make the vessel unappealing. You have to beat the devil out…"_

 _Doors slamming. Blinds being closed against the murky daylight. His mother crying out: "please, please. Perhaps the doctor is wrong!" as she gripped Charles hard to her chest. And an abnormal light in his father's eyes as he took down the whip which hung downstairs. He had never used it. Charles never imagined he would._

 _"_ _Father?" A plaintive, scared voice._

 _The sudden pressure behind his temples which meant the voices were coming back. Charles felt fear spike, along with panic. He just wanted it all to go away._

 _"_ _Go, Marian," his mother gripped his hand tightly once before she fled upstairs. His father came towards him, the curled rawhide weapon held in his hands like a club. It uncurled to the ground. Charles stared at it, wide-eyed._

 _"_ _Father?" He backed away, suddenly less afraid of what was inside than out. His father advanced, eyes limpid with pain._

 _"_ _Don't worry son. I'll save you," the whip snapped. Charles jumped._

 _"_ _Father, what are you doing?"_

 _The large hands grabbed his arm and yanked him none too gently towards him. Charles felt his feet grinding against the floor as he fought it, crying._

 _"_ _Mother! Father!" Neither parent came to his rescue. On the contrary, his father raised the whip overhead._

 _Then there was only pain._

* * *

 _"_ _Do you still hear voices?" The same question asked day after day at the breakfast table. At first, Charles would answer honestly. He had been taught not to lie. But after a week of being whipped whenever he answered in the affirmative, he had learned just to keep his mouth shut and bow his head._

 _"_ _No, sir," a lie, for he always heard them now. It was a constant stream._

 _His mother caught the lie, and her eyes would fill with tears. "He never lied before he was…" She would stammer to her husband as if Charles weren't even there._

 _His father would frown grimly and study the son before him. "I'll have to try harder," Charles sniffled, his heart racing. His father said he was only trying to protect him. That he had to get the devil inside of Charles out before it overtook him. He was hurting Charles because he loved him, because he was desperate for him to be better again._

 _Somehow Charles was starting to doubt that._

* * *

 _At twelve years old, he had to be carried when they went to the bomb shelters. His father slung him over his back, and Charles smiled and waved when his name was called by neighbors, pretending that his back was not in shreds. His mother walked silent behind them, and numbly. Her smile had faded a year before, and the golden strands of her hair were fading into grayness prematurely. His father's eyes stared straight ahead, dead to the world, shoulders slumped._

 _They all moved in their own bubbles of misery._

 _"_ _Fire! Fire!" yes, they were all well acquainted with that word by now. Charles only glanced at the building that was going p in flames, lighting up the city like a Christmas Tree. Was it near Christmas? He had long ago lost track of actual seasons._

 _"_ _Help me!" Then there was the voice again. He cringed, assaulted by a wave of panic and terror so intense it burned._

 _It burned like… Charles's eyes went to the blazing house. Mindy lived there. Mindy, she was his age and she had given him a Valentine on Valentine's day, blushing. She was nice. The voice in his head sounded like…_

 _"_ _Help me!" he saw two people stumble from the door of the burning building._

 _"_ _Where's Mindy? Where's Mindy?"_

 _Panic and terror so intense it burned…. Charles gasped, nearly kicking his father in the side. He understood now, as he watched men race into the building with buckets of water and return a moment later with Mindy covered in ash and coughing up smoke. He understood. He wasn't hearing voices._

 _He was hearing thoughts._

 _"_ _Mother. Father!" Joy cascaded through him. Finally, he understood. He was not hearing things from beyond, he was hearing thoughts! It was a special power, like a super hero power or something!_

 _Charles slid down the stairs leading to the underground, pushing past people as he went His parents were already down there, hunched with the hundreds of other bodies. "Mother. Father! They aren't voices! They aren't voices!" he screamed, as he landed on the bottom step and ploughed his way through the crowd, screaming this over and over again._

 _"_ _What are you talking about Charles?" he ignored he questions that others asked as they watched him go, confused, searching for his parents. He had to tell them that the doctor had been wrong. Charles was still their child. There was no devil. He was not a demon, had never been…All things could go back to normal now. They could love him again._

 _"_ _Mother!" he dropped to his knees in front of her, ignoring the neighbors who had begun to mill about and listen to him, looking for entertainment besides the drab walls of the underground. She stared at him listlessly. "Mother. They aren't voices! They're thoughts!" he yelled, and when he saw she did not comprehend he looked about for his father, his father was a genius. He would understand._

 _The man appeared over his shoulder like a shadow. "Father!" Charles jumped to his feet and wrapped his arms around his father's waist, squeezing tightly. The elder Xavier gasped, surprised by the force of Charles's movements. "Father!" Charles cried, tears blurring his eyes. "There's no devil! They aren't voices!" His father collapsed to his knees in front of Charles, and grabbed his shoulders, eyes bright with joy._

 _"_ _No more voices?" he gasped. "You don't hear them?"_

 _Charles grinned. "No, father, it's different! They aren't devil's voices, they're thoughts. I hear people thinking!" his father went pale. Charles quickly backtracked, eager to show the new trick he had been working on. He had practiced using the minds of rats scurrying about the underground._

See! _The word echoed throughout the room, in the minds of all present. A few people jumped, others cried out in fear, more gripped their heads as they looked around for the source of the sound._

See, father! I can put my thoughts in your head too! Isn't it glorious? _His father was staring at him with eyes as wide as saucers. Charles wondered what was wrong. Wasn't his father happy?_

 _"_ _Demon! Demon!" Charles turned around in time to witness people back away, hands upraised as if they were warding off a carnivore._

 _They were backing away from him. He stood. "No, no, it's alright!" He called, taking a step closer. People screamed and shielded their eyes. Children ran to their mothers. Fathers stepped in front of their wives, like human shelters. "I won't hurt you! I promise!" His promise meant little; the call still went from person to person, until their collective fear became a living, breathing animal tearing at Charles's heart._

 _"_ _Devil! Demon!_ _ **Monster!"**_

* * *

 _When he woke up, a week later, he was in a soft bed. His face hurt with the bruises there that the crowd had inflicted. Most of his body was bandaged. He could feel his mother's mind, numbed with alcohol as she sat downstairs and drank. His father was silent, angry. They had moved from London, leaving behind the home where he had been born and the neighbors they had loved._

 _They had left behind everything._

 _Charles gazed out of the window, at the endless stretch of countryside and surf. The house was so empty and cold. America was busy and frantic. He could feel the minds pushing up against his. He ignored them, and stared out of the window. He could feel his parents grief- but most of all their anger at him._

 _Anger because they had lost everything. Anger because he was a devil. Anger because they could not save him and now they were all imprisoned in this place, chained by Charles's powers and their own shame._

 _And it was all his fault._

* * *

 _At thirteen, he had learned that his parents wanted little to do with him anymore. His mother drank copious amounts of alcohol. His father wandered the house like a ghost, moaning out his grief. Charles was left to his own devices, mostly pestering the maids and drawing outdoor creatures he glimpsed in the windows. He was not allowed to leave the house. He had not been outside in a year, confined to their giant and lavish prison._

 _Charles hated it._

 _He had learned not to express his opinion though. All it did was get him hit-like today. He was struggling to bandage his left shoulder with one hand when he met his first and dearest friend. Tears stung at his eyes as he used his unhurt hand to stretched backwards, gently tying the cloth around his dislocated shoulder. He did not cry aloud. He was a friend to pain by now, knew how to deal with it. Nevertheless, there was only so much one could do alone._

 _"_ _Well, what do we have here?" Charles jumped and swiveled around in his seat to see a kind and friendly face studying him from the doorway. It was Josef, one of the mansion's oldest gardeners. Charles only knew that he was from Germany. And his father hated him for reasons which Charles did not completely understand._

 _Something about Josef being Jewish…What that had to do with anything, Charles was too dumb to know apparently. The only reason his father let him stay was because Josef's father had saved Charles's grandfather during some great war or something before Josef's father moved to Germany, and the Xavier's moved to England… Grandfather had left it in his will that Josef had a permanent home in the mansion, so he stayed against his father's will._

 _For that reason alone, Charles liked him._

 _He did not like him enough not to blush when he was caught shirtless and struggling though. He bowed his head, silent. Josef's deep brown eyes studied him wonderingly for a moment before landing on the bruises and scars he saw there. The old man did not show pity or anger, only sadness. "Oh, boy…" he breathed sympathetically. "What happened?" Charles only shook his head. He wondered that himself every day. What had changed to make the seemingly unchangeable live from his parents vanish?_

 _It had probably been the result of a single day, which Charles regretted with every fiber of his being. "I was born," another thing too. "And the world started to burn," he added._

 _Josef came forward and gently took the bandages from Charles. The thirteen year old looked up, and for the first time since he was nine years old, saw true kindness in another's eyes. Charles dug at his mind, and saw images of hatred and bigotry that had no math he had ever seen._

 _Doors and windows painted with yellow stars, and then crushed in. The streets littered with broken glass. People screaming as they were dragged from their homes. The angry shouts of men riled to the point of killing. Grief, pain, anger. Watching as his son was taken away, knowing he would not be brought back. A single word._

 _Kristallnacht._

 _When Charles pulled away with a gasp, he realized that the world he had been exposed too was the world in which Josef had witnessed fall apart. They were causing the older man to blink hard and fast at him, his heart laid bare at Charles's feet. For the first time, Chares felt shame at his natural ability, but the emotion he saw in Josef's eyes was not one of anger. It was one of understanding. He had seen into Charles's heart as well. He took Charles's hand into his own, and understood._

 _They just_ _ **understood.**_

 _"_ _The world is burning," Charles told his new friend. "I'm so sorry," he felt as if everyone in the world should have been sorry. The man shook his head._

 _"_ _No, dear one. The world isn't burning, it's shattering," he looked deep into Charles's eyes, into a time not so far away but very scary. "Like broken glass. I'm so sorry."_

* * *

 _Charles knew that Josef's wife was a telepath because when he was invited into their tiny home on the very outskirts of the land (he had discovered that it was Josef who had been making him food all this time. Neither of his parents did it) she turned from her spot at the stove and pointed a wooden spoon in his direction immediately._

 _"_ _Hey, you!" she snapped with the fiery tongue of a woman used to getting her way. "Stop rummaging around in people's heads," Charles, who had been doing just that, stopped in his tracks. Josef chuckled and patted him on the head._

 _"_ _What? Did you think you were alone?" He asked, and happily went about to kiss this new and fiery creature on the cheek. "Be nice, Hilda," he scolded playfully as he sat down and began to rummage around in a drawer for something. Charles stared at Hilda curiously._

Can you hear me? _He asked into her mind. She glared at him._

Stop rummaging into people's heads! It's rude! _She repeated, right back into his head. Charles grinned like a fool, and closed the door behind him when he walked in, delighted by her tight tone._

 _He was finally home._

* * *

 _Hilda and Josef were good teachers. Now his day was full of lessons and stories. Josef demanded that he pick up his schooling again. After the school had been destroyed in London, Charles had suddenly been on his own and had re-read Shakespeare's works over a billion times by now._

 _So Josef gave him new books, books which he had brought from his travels all around the world. He read everything. Poetry, literature, history, science, math…. Socrates, Bacon, Dickinson, Darwin, Einstein, Owens. And Josef encouraged him, asked him his opinion on everything from the third verse of Dickinson's poem "Success," to the cellular structure of an octopus._

 _They would stay up all night, debating, discussing, arguing, until Hilda ended the conversation with a whiplash of biting wit which left them both laughing at their own scholarly folly. His brain sucked it up like a sponge, and his new thirst for knowledge gave him a confidence he had never felt before. He had to know more. He wanted to know everything. Josef understood Charles's excitement, despite being human he understood Charles best._

 _His telepathy helped. Hilda was strict. "It is about self-control," she snapped at him during their lessons, when he sat at her table and she stood at the stove, usually making him something good while she pretended to be mean. Charles enjoyed the game. "Self-control, focus," Hilda's face turned grave as she pointed the wooden spoon at him. "And reason, Charles. Always reason. It is the only way to survive the emotion," and he agreed._

 _He learned to wrangle with the emotions she chucked at him, soothing and smoothing them out, returning them brand new and better. He learned to speak with his mind as fluently as he spoke aloud. He learned how to translate different languages through his head. How to grab hold of the conscious and force it to his bidding… The only thing Hilda would not teach him was how to connect. He could control, but not connect._

 _"_ _Touching a person's mind is one thing," she told Josef when he insisted Charles was ready. "But what he did with you? Touching the soul?" She only shook her head. "He has already seen the world burning, Josef," she would say. "I don't want him to know what the souls of this world are doing too."_

* * *

 _At fourteen, he met a blue skinned girl named Raven._

 _"_ _Take whatever you want," he told her, eager to help. He could sense her fear, her distrust. He took the emotions, and calmed them hurriedly. "We have plenty. You don't have to steal," when he saw her face brighten he smiled back._

 _"_ _In fact, you never have to steal again!"_

 _Telling Josef was not as easy as he thought it would be._

 _"_ _Is he okay?" Raven shrieked when the man collapsed to the ground in a dead faint after seeing the blonde-haired pale skinned girl at Charles's side suddenly turn blue._

 _"_ _He's fine," Charles promised, patting her back before rushing over to check Josef's mind for action. It was twirling with surprise, but not fear. He lived with telepaths, after all. "He likes you!" he assured Raven when she shuffled awkwardly in place._

 _"_ _Are you sure, Charles? Maybe I should go," he jumped to his feet._

 _"_ _No, no! Its fine, Raven. He did the same thing when I made the nanny poop in the kitchen for the first time," he admitted with a smile. Hilda had been so angry at that, and Josef had near had a heart attack. Good times. Raven took a step back, and her sharp fear of his abilities felt like a strong hit to the gut._

 _"_ _You can control people?" Raven gasped, taking a step back._

 _"_ _Yes," Charles said, wondering if she would find him revolting too. "But don't worry! I won't do it to you. I won't ever read your mind if you don't want me too. I promise!" she smiled, relieved._

 _His new sister nodded and went back to being blonde. Like his mother used to be blonde. "Okay. I trust you Charles," she told him, and he had to swallow a sudden lump in his throat when she added: "I think I'll like being your sister."_

 _He gripped her hand. "You will. I promise."_

* * *

 _His parents loved Raven. His mother fawned over the young girl, making Raven blush every time she did her hair or picked out her dress. Charles watched the fashion show, amused, and nodded to everything said to him._

 _"_ _I like the blue one, Raven," he would tell her and they would share conspiratorial smiles. She had given him a nickname, and called him it whenever she was feeling snippy. "Charlie!" She would tease him._

 _His father adored Raven, calling her 'pet' left and right. Raven didn't notice that they never spoke to Charles, or that sometimes his father would sneer in his direction, eyes full of hate while Charles just stared back. He had stopped being afraid somewhere between reading the American Declaration of Independence and the story about Genghis Khan. All dictators had to fall at some point. All they were were bullies._

 _Charles would not be afraid of a mere bully. However he had never stopped hoping that one day his parents would realize that the devil they saw was really their son. He never stopped loving them, and hoping one day to be loved again in return. In the meantime, Hilda and Josef were his parents. They, too, adored Raven._

 _"_ _I'm thinking mysterious," Hilda hummed beneath her breath as she sewed Raven a new patch for the dress she had ripped while catching toads with Charles. She followed him everywhere. They did everything together. There was not a person in the world Charles loved more than Raven. Raven watched with a content little smile. She was still pale._

 _Both Hilda and Josef knew what she-they-were, but after weeks of having Charles, Josef and Hilda tell her never to change into her blue form, she knew better than to let her guard slip. It scared Charles, what his father might do to Raven if he ever found out that she was… Like him. "Yeah!" Raven cried enthusiastically. "Chic, stylish, maybe flowery," she contemplated, looking at the various fabrics Hilda offered._

 _"_ _Like a mid-summers day," Charles piped in._

 _"_ _Shall I compare thee to the stars?" Josef added dramatically._

 _"_ _We live in a house of fools and Thebans, Raven," Hilda clucked. Raven laughed. "Anyway, what am I thinking? Charles? A combination of mysterious and chic…" Hilda tapped her temple and Charles answered out loud._

 _"_ _Mystique!" Raven beamed._

* * *

 _For a few months, it was bliss. Raven had brought happiness and a sense of family into the house. She and Charles would play hide-and-seek for hours in the endless rooms. At fifteen, he started studying to go to Oxford._

 _He would not admit to anyone but Josef and Raven but he missed England, and more importantly he wanted to get away,_ _ **far away,**_ _from his parents. Josef helped him; gave him everything he needed. Hilda practiced the stretch of his powers. His father stopped beating him for a time, and the endless stream of love and support from his adoptive father helped heal the wounds inflicted by his biological one._

 _For a few months, Charles was happy._

 _It ended the day his father found his mother in bed with the house gardener, Henry. Charles liked Henry. He was kind and thoughtful, and he had seen him and his mother together quite a lot recently. He had thought nothing of it until one night when he had heard his father bellow with rage._

 _Glasses flew, voices were raised. Charles heard the sound of a gunshot. Henry scurried out quickly. Charles nearly fell out of bed in his haste to find Raven. She was in the thick of it, as usual. "No, father!" She screamed, fighting against his father in the dark halls outside of his mother's room. His father had gun pointed inside, straight at Charles's mother's heart._

 _"_ _Raven, get back!" he recognized that look of rage on his father's face. He ran forward, intending to tear Raven away, but it was too late. With a roar, his father smashed the gun against Raven's face with an audible clack. She collapsed with a gasp, hands flying to her bleeding cheek._

 _"_ _Father!"_

 _"_ _No!" Charles did not remember freezing anyone. He did, because time stopped again and his mind was rock still. He only registered falling to his knees beside his sobbing sister and taking her into his arms. "Raven, are you alright? Are you alright? Please answer me. Please don't cry," he begged, rocking her in his arms. His heart was beating so fast it hurt. He could have lost her. He could have lost everything._

 _"_ _Father hit me! He hit me!" Raven wailed, eyes wide._

 _"_ _He didn't mean it," Raven couldn't lose another father. Charles wouldn't let her. One had already abandoned her and he knew what that was like. Raven was happy how it was now. He would keep her happy and safe and she would know neither pain nor anger nor despair._

 _She would never know what it was to be like him, even if he had to break his promise; Charles would make sure of that. He was her brother. And brothers protected their sisters. Simple as that._

 _Charles closed his eyes, and pressed his mind against hers. He did not know that that night he had unlocked a power he had never wanted. That Charles had essentially cemented a desperate need to keep Raven at his side that would ensure he do this again and again…Whenever she saw a bruise or cut or strike that she had never been meant to see. There would be many days when Charles broke his promises._

 _Raven woke up in her bed, and remembered nothing._

* * *

 _The first time Charles left the bounds of the house, he was sixteen years old. Raven was fourteen. A mass of thoughts assaulted him the second he stepped into the summer day. He absorbed them, smoothed them, stored them for another day and breathed._

 _"_ _Let's get a drink," he was one step closer to Oxford. Josef said he was past ready for college. They just needed to fake some scores._

 _Raven smirked. "You'll let me drink?" She asked._

 _"_ _No. I'll let you watch_ _ **me**_ _drink and then complain about my bad role-modeling skills. Take my arm, hmm?" She did so, grumbling about him._

 _"_ _Aren't you still too young to drink, Charlie?"_

 _"_ _As you point out repeatedly, I look older than I am," he felt older too. Had he really only been on Earth for sixteen years? So much had changed. Henry was gone which was probably the reason that his mother was drunk all the time. His father had found a new hobby playing golf with some other men and was out of the house most of the time. The war had been over for two years now._

 _"_ _True. Charles, when you go to Oxford, what am I going to do?"_

 _He stared at her, flabbergasted. "Why, come with me of course," he said, this being obvious in his eyes. Raven shrugged and looked down._

 _"_ _What if I don't want too?" Charles stopped in his tracks, and stared at her for a long moment, pondering the answer._

 _"_ _Then I won't go," she looked up, surprised._

 _"_ _But it is all you've ever wanted!" She cried. Charles shrugged and patted her hand, a sense of sadness wafting over him._

 _"_ _All I've ever wanted is your happiness, Raven. It's you and me against the world, remember? I won't go if you aren't coming," she pouted._

 _"_ _No fair. You're using yourself as collateral!" He couldn't help but smile._

 _"_ _Is it working?"_

 _"_ _Charles!"_

 _"_ _It is decided then. We're going to Oxford," she shook her head._

 _"_ _You're a devil, Charles Xavier," she muttered playfully tugging at his arm. Charles nearly stumbled in his walk at hearing this. It sent a pang of pain through his heart. He recovered himself quickly enough though. He was a telepath. He knew all about self-control. Nevertheless, he had to swallow several times before he could come up with a reasonable quip, and it was a half-hearted one at that._

 _"_ _You aren't the first to think so."_

* * *

 _At seventeen, his world stopped burning._

 _And started shattering, like broken glass._

 _"_ _After the cells have split with the help of nature's own recycling system, they are able to multiply at a tremendous rate, so fast scientists think that…" It was midnight when his research was interrupted by a strong knock at his door. Charles looked up from his desk, littered with magnifying glasses, books, papers and journals. He was a Scientist in every possible way, studying cell division and genetics. He had already unlocked the reason behind mutation, now he just had to isolate why it happened and to whom. Why were he and Raven special?_

 _"_ _Josef?" He called, for this was really the only person who would call upon him at this hour. Raven was fast asleep, as well as his mother. The maids and servants had all gone home for the night. He had thought Josef had too. Charles stood and quickly crossed the room to the door. The only reason Josef would come see him this late at night was if something was wrong. What..?_

 _He opened the door, and gasped. His father stood at the other side, his auburn hair graying and thinning in the front. His once healthy mustache drooped with dry strands of dirty clumps. His clothes were disheveled, fists clenched. But his eyes were clear with intelligence Charles had inherited, and also an anger which Hilda had sternly lectured out of him._

 _Charles moved aside hurriedly as his father pushed past him into the room. Charles gulped and closed the door, hoping that he would not wake Raven. His father had not spoken to him in years. He had not been beaten in at last two. Was his father here to finish his work of purging the devil from his son?_

 _The elder's eyes flicked across the messy room, from the books stacked in piles in every corner to the journals and scientific equipment that covered the expensive paintings and rugs. He snarled._

 _"_ _Witch-craft," Charles did not correct him. Learning was in a way witch-craft._

 _"_ _Father?" He asked cautiously, trying to get a feel for the reason behind this visit from the man's mind. He found nothing but anger and…. Fear?_

 _"_ _Is she a demon?" Charles blinked, taken aback._

 _"_ _What?" he asked. His father grabbed his arm in a steel grip that Charles knew was inescapable. Blue eyes like his own bore into Charles heatedly, a clear threat in his voice as the elder mumbled._

 _"_ _Is. Raven. A. Devil?" Charles's blood went cold. He struggled to keep the mask of confusion on his face._

 _"_ _Why would you think that?"_

 _"_ _I just saw her, boy!" his father shouted, giving Charles a painful shake. "She was in her room and I walked past to say goodnight and… She's blue, devil. She was blue and scaly and hideous," Charles would have killed another man for insulting his sister in such a way but with his father he just paled. He had seen._

 _He had_ _ **seen.**_

 _There was no going back now. Charles tipped his chin back, swallowed. "She's still your daughter," he whispered. His father shoved him backwards. Charles gasped as he stumbled into the desk behind him._

 _"_ _Ugh!" His father cried out in anguish, running hands through his hair. He started to pace back and forth, face twisted into emotional turmoil. "Oh, my girl. My girl. I've been cursed. Both of my children…" Charles thought he heard a sob. He took a step forward._

 _"_ _Father," he said softly. "Father, please. I can explain," his hands scrabbled for purchase on one of his books on genetics. He started to move toward the man who had tortured him for most of his childhood, still clinging to hope for love, desperate. "It isn't what you think. You haven't lost anything," he held up the book as if it could solve problems, fix relationships, wipe the slate clean. "Me and Raven, we're mutants. Our genes are different, but that's all. It' s science, father, logic. We aren't demons. Please, let me show you…"_

 _He should not have been surprised by the slap that made him fall against his desk. He should have expected it, and the tang of blood in his mouth was a deft reminder of his childhood. Charles looked up, hand going to his cheek. His father was glaring at him with pure hatred. The love he had held for his son was dead. Charles should have remembered that._

 _"_ _Do not speak of logic to me!" his father hissed. "There is no sense in taking a man's children, devil!" he reached into his pocket. Charles saw the gleam of a gun. His eyes widened as his father jammed the safety off and stalked away._

 _Charles's heart was in his throat. He stood to his feet, his worst nightmares becoming a reality. "Father? What are you doing?" physically, the man was marching towards the door, gun in hand and a determined glint in his eyes. "Father!" Charles jogged to catch up with him, his voice growing more panicked. He did not want to believe it. His father loved Raven. He loved her. He would not…._

 _"_ _What are you doing?!" Charles grabbed his arm, jerking the gun around. He could see his intentions in his mind, fuzzy and polluted with rage and resentment. They made his heart skip beats. Not Raven… Dear Heavens above, not his sister…._

 _"_ _Get away from me!" The next punch that his father landed on his face made Charles see stars, but he did not relinquish his grip._

 _"_ _You can't kill her," he growled, shoving his power back where it was trying to escape. Hilda had warned him again and again that his power was rare. It was the power to dominate and kill if he let it get out of control. "I won't let you! No!" They wrangled for control of the gun, father and son fighting. Charles ducked against a punch, let fly one of his own._

 _His knuckles bruised on his father's face, Charles swallowed the disgust slithering up his throat. He had never before hit another being. His power growled. He had to control it. He had to have self-control or all was lost. But if he allowed his father to kill Raven then all was lost for him anyway. What did he do?_

 _His father was shaking him. Or to be precise, he was shaking the gun, trying to detach Charles's hands, yanking him back and forth, back and forth across the room until it was spinning and his legs were weak. "Demon!" A sharp slap upside the head._

 _"_ _Monster!" A kick to the shins. Charles cried out._

 _"_ _Devil!" more hits. "I hate you!" more kicks. "I HATE YOU!" all he had ever wanted was love, friendship, a_ _ **father.**_ _His heart crumpled._

 _Charles collapsed to his knees in front of the doorway, body aching and heartbroken. His father was stronger than he was, Charles did not stand a chance. "Please," he gasped past the blood frothing in his mouth. "Please don't hurt her," he was begging and he knew it. He did not care. Charles looked up, tears mingling with the blood dripping down his chin._

 _He snatched the barrel of the gun his father had limp in his hand and pointed it directly at his head. "Kill me," he pleaded. "Kill me if you wish. Take your anger out on me. Hit me, hurt me, kill me! I don't care, but don't touch my sister," his father yanked the gun from Charles's grasp._

 _His eyes were wide and crazed in the night. "I should have killed you long ago," he stated darkly. "But I didn't, and now you've taken over that girl. Now she's a_ _ **hideous monster,"**_ _a smoldering glare. "Just like you."_

 _Charles shook his head. "Please," he began again. "She won't change into that form again. She'll be nice and pretty just as you like. Neither of us will ever use our powers again. I promise, alright? Just spare her. I'll do anything if you spare her, please," he sat on his knees, desperate, begging, and heard Raven stir._ Sleep, _he commanded her instantly._

 _He saw his father's eyes narrow into predatory slits. The intelligence churned in his eyes. "Anything?" He inquired. Charles gulped, but nodded._

 _"_ _Those Jews," Josef. Hilda. Chares went pale. His father hated them both. "I want them out of my house," he ordered._

 _"_ _But where are they supposed to go?" Charles demanded instantly. "This place is all they have! And Grandfather's will! You can't… Ugh!" He grunted in pain as his father delivered a kick to his vulnerable gut._

 _"_ _My father's will said_ _ **I**_ _couldn't send them out," his father corrected coldly. "So you will. Send them out," his father ordered calmly. "I want them gone within the week, or I'll put a bullet into the head of everyone in this house," he was not bluffing. Charles could only nod numbly._

 _"_ _Yes, sir," a broken sob as his father walked past him and out of the room calmly, his footsteps once again those of a man who was used to being obeyed because he knew the weaknesses of his enemy. He had found Charles's weakness. Charles stayed on his knees for a long time after his father left, silent tears running down his face. A mixed conglomeration of clear tears and red blood leaked unto the floor before he picked himself up and staggered to his desk. Eyes blurred, he picked up the book he had been reading and flung it across the room._

 _For all his knowledge, all his ability, he still did not have what it took to save his family. Charles sank into his chair and covered his face with his hands, sobbing quietly. He didn't know what to do._

 _"_ _Charlie?" He gasped and looked up. Raven was in the doorway dressed in her nightclothes, staring at him with eyes wide with worry. She was blue._

 _"_ _Raven!" She was lovely, gorgeous, his sister, but he snapped her name as if she were a criminal. A hideous monster. "What are you doing looking like that?" He demanded. Raven stopped in her journey across the room to him, frightened. He had never raised his voice to her before._

 _"_ _W-What?" She stammered._

 _"_ _For goodness sakes Raven, how many times have I told you to look normal? We can't have you wandering about blue, even at night! You'll scare the neighbors!" he shouted, and instantly hated himself for his words even if they were saving her life. Raven's eyes filled with tears._

 _"_ _Oh. I… I'm sorry, Charles," She blinked, and replaced herself with pale skin and blonde hair. She hugged herself tightly, and attempted to smile. "Better?" She peeped. Charles's heart sank. He sighed and stood._

 _"_ _No. No, I… Oh, Raven, I'm sorry," he breathed when she began to cry. He rushed forward to pull her into his arms. She hugged herself to him, weeping quietly and in it was that moment when Charles hated his father more than he had ever hated anyone ever before. He hated him with every fiber in his body._

 _"_ _You've never yelled at me before," Raven sniffled against him. "I didn't mean to make you angry," she said. Charles stroked artificial hair and pressed a kiss to her head._

 _"_ _You didn't. You never have. I'm sorry Raven. I shouldn't have snapped at you," he took her shoulders, held her an arm's length away. "You didn't make me angry, love. I'm just… Its only that…." He closed his eyes and exhaled. "It terrifies me, Raven," he finally admitted, opening his eyes to gaze sincerely into hers._

 _"_ _It terrifies me to think of what people might do to you if they ever saw you in your natural form. Not everyone is like Josef and Hilda. There are horrible, cruel people out there who would kill you, Raven, and I…" his voice broke. Raven lunged and wrapped her arms around his neck._

 _"_ _You understand, don't you Raven? I'm so sorry, but for now you have to do this. We both do. No one can ever know who we are, or else…" Tears ran down his face. "I can't bear the thought," she nodded against his neck._

 _"_ _I understand Charlie."_

* * *

 _The next morning, Hilda and Josef were sitting at the table when Charles snuck out to tell them. They sat together, hands intertwined when Charles opened the door to their tiny shack. Tears rolled down his face._

 _"_ _Charles," Hilda smiled, gently. "We know," of course they did. Hilda was a telepath. They had probably known all night the deal he had made to save his sister. Charles walked into the house, dragging his feet with grief, and when he buckled Josef was the one to catch him beneath the arms and tenderly lower him to the ground._

 _"_ _I'm sorry, I'm sorry. So sorry," he gasped over and over. Josef just nodded against his head as he held Charles tightly in his arms and Hilda ran a loving hand through his hair. "I don't want too. Please believe me, I would rather he have killed me…" They shushed him. Charles clung to them both and wept._

 _"_ _I'm so sorry."_

* * *

 _Josef and Hilda went back to Germany on a warm summer day._

 _Charles waited outside of the new car he had bought them. Hilda and Raven were in the house, talking. Only he and Josef stood outside in the breeze. Charles inhaled._

 _"_ _The war is over, and I need to start helping my people to rebuild," Josef told Charles. "Perhaps you can visit when you go to Oxford. Germany and England aren't too far away," somehow the invitation fell flat between them, as if the future had allowed them a glimpse and the glimpse they had seen countered this thought._

 _"_ _Yes, maybe," Charles did not have the heart to say it aloud though. He only put his hands in his pockets and looked anywhere but at the man he was betraying. "You take care of Hilda, alright?" he implored. Josef nodded sagely._

 _"_ _Take care of Raven, hear?"_

 _Always. "Yes, sir."_

 _Josef pressed a hand into his shoulder, hurting the bruises there. He had healed so many of Charles's bruises over the years. "And yourself, Charles. And yourself," Charles bit his bottom lip. He cried more in the past two nights than he had in his life. Everything and everyone was falling away._

 _"_ _Josef?" The old man smiled, and once again Charles knew that he would be understood, even if he bungled it up like he always did. "For everything you've taught me. Everything you've done for me and my sister, I… I'll never be able to repay you," he stuttered._

 _Josef studied him for a long moment, his dark brown eyes luminescent in the light. They looked like orbs, swirling with time and pain… and joy._

 _"_ _You can," he contradicted, softly, as he always did. "You can teach others as I've taught you Charles. The days of mutants hiding," he glanced into the house, at Raven. "Are ending. One day you will be able to walk in the sunlight, but after so long in the dark," he shook his head. "The mutants will need a leader. The humans will need a reason not to fear. Do you remember what you told me equality meant?" Charles smiled, feeling tears again._

 _"_ _You and I are the same," he whispered. Josef's smile was one of unconditional love._

 _"_ _Yes, son. The same. I want you to teach that lesson until it no longer needs to be taught. Until the day comes when I won't be ridiculed for loving a mutant," he smiled as Hilda exited, eyes shining. "The day when a mutant can marry a human without fear. When we can be friends. Will you do that for me, my boy?" Charles nodded._

 _"_ _Anything," he promised. Josef smiled and squeezed his shoulder one last time. Charles threw his arms around Josef's neck, catching the older man off guard. Hesitantly, Josef returned the hug._

 _"_ _Goodbye, father," Charles choked out. Josef kissed the side of his head._

 _"_ _Goodbye son," they separated, eyes shining and hearts aching. Raven was gripping Hilda's arm in a tight lock, lips trembling._

 _"_ _And remember to write every day. Let us know how you're doing. You won't forget?"_

 _"_ _No, darling," Hilda lied, patting Raven's hand. "I won't. Take care of our troublemaker, hmm?" She asked, walking over to Charles. She smiled, and Charles smiled back._

 _"_ _I'll remember," Raven promised as she gripped Charles's arm. Her eyes were wide and sad. Charles kissed her forehead. It was for her. All for her._

Hilda… Thank you for your lessons, your time. Thank you for being a splendid teacher, _Charles thought, for fear that he would not be able to speak past the lump in his throat._

 _Hilda pulled him into a hug._ You're a good idiot, _she kissed his cheek as he chuckled. They separated and Charles said goodbye to his mother. "Raven?" Josef kissed her forehead. Raven hugged him tight around the waist._

" _You are gorgeous, no matter in what form. And if anyone tells you differently, tell Charles. He'll handle it," Josef winked. Raven giggled. Charles rolled his eyes and grabbed her hand, gently pulling her away. Waving, Josef stepped into the car. Hilda went into the other side, never taking her eyes from them. Slowly, the car pulled away, down the road, gaining speed until it was out of sight, leaving Charles and Raven standing alone on the yard of their prison._

 _Charles knew he would never see his parents again._

* * *

The first thing that Alex realized when he returned to himself was that his head hurt. It hurt especially bad when he opened his eyes and was temporarily blinded by the dull lamplight. The blindness faded as quickly s it had come. Alex groaned and shifted backward, his back ramming hard against a solid surface he assumed to be a wall. He heard similar sounds of pain as his vision cleared.

The others looked just as disorientated as he felt, their minds rapidly ejected from Charles's mind like torpedoes. Erik was blinking rapidly in the light, his entire body stiff. Hank had fallen against a wall too, and was pressing a hand to his forehead. Sean and Raven had their heads in their hands, and looked like they sort of wanted to be sick. The worst person by far however was the professor. Charles had gone a sickly shade of pale white as he leaned limply into his pillows. His forehead sparkled with perspiration. His eyes were closed, and Alex saw the remnants of tear tracks on his face. He didn't blame him.

After what he had just seen, he was surprised Charles had shown them this at all. Alex certainly would not have been brave enough. As if Erik had read his mind (ironic) the metal bender finished blinking. His eyes were grave, shocked… And admiring? Alex knew he saw some concern in his eyes when the other man glanced around to see if they were okay.

"Charles?" That was Hank, gently placing a hand on his arm. Charles opened his eyes. They were sunken in with exhaustion. He managed to smile though.

"I'm sorry," he croaked politely. "I couldn't go on," and Alex was sure there was so much more to the story. So much that Charles had done that no one had even been aware of. "Is everyone quite alright?" Charles then asked.

"Feeling like a wimp, but yeah," Sean muttered. Alex had to agree with him.

"That's one jacked up life there Charles," he stated without finesse. Charles smiled, as his eyes fluttered closed.

"Softened by my sister," he quipped. Raven was silent, studying him closely in the lamplight. There were tears in her eyes and something else. Something like… Anger? Betrayal?

Erik was the next to speak up. "Nevertheless, those were… Those were _inspiring_ memories, Charles. Thank you," Alex felt like a moment passed between them because an ironic smile played on Charles's lips, but if it was then no one was forthcoming with the private joke.

"Raven?" Hank had noticed her sour mood too. He moved forward and gently laid a hand on her arm, his beady eyes soft with curiosity. Alex was surprised when she yanked her arm away from his grip almost violently. Erik narrowed his eyes. Sean jumped, surprised. Hank looked hurt. Charles opened his eyes, and when they landed on his sister, he frowned.

"Raven?" His voice was no more than a hoarse and painful sounding whisper. Alex wondered how much energy Charles had expended to do that. For a moment it looked as if Raven might explode or curse or throw a tantrum or _something_ , but when a long second passed and she still hadn't done it, Alex saw her shoulders relax. With infinite benevolence, Raven leaned down to press a soft kiss to Charles's forehead.

"Get some rest, Charlie," she breathed. Then, she turned on her heel, and avoiding the gaze of everyone round, just about ran from the room. The men remaining stared after her with a sick feeling in their guts.

"Um," Sean turned his head, searching the face of everyone. "Did I miss something?"


	8. Chapter 8

Two days later:

The water looked so regal from where she stood, so everlasting. As if it stretched beyond the horizon and never ended or stopped. It was hard to believe in any sort of civilization out here. Heck, it was hard to believe that any life existed where she stood. It was peaceful, but also very lonely. As if Raven were the only one in the entire world, in a place where all there seemed to be was wetness, waves and the reflection of the moon on the water, still and mysterious.

Mysterious. Like her.

The darkness wrapped the ship like a blanket, throwing shadows into alignment with light and hiding the nips of water that sprinkled her skin from the waves. Raven leaned against the railing on the deck of the ship, alone, aware that there were soldiers in the bay above who were watching her.

She pretended not to care, but really it made her furious. Those men would probably have put a bullet into her had they the chance. Heck, one of them had tried to put a knife in Sean's chest two days before. And he was just sitting in the brig unpunished and perfectly alright. _I bet he won't even get a slap on a hand for attempted murder,_ she thought bitterly.

Then, she sighed. She was tired of pretending no to care. She had turned away all who had come seeking her the past two days. From Hank to Alex to Moira, she had avoided them with everything she had. Charles had not pushed his way into her mind but she could still feel him there, a presence at the edge of her psyche she had possessed her entire life. A presence which once seemed a comfort but now had turned into a _leash._

Raven _hated_ leashes.

Her face must have shown it for Erik's voice was dry as chalk. "Am I interrupting some vengeful plot against one of the boys or something?" He asked. Raven turned partially. She did not smile at the meager joke. Granted, Erik was not smiling either but she had learned that his sarcasm was often not expressed in his handsome face. He was standing near the door to the deck, hands stuck into his pockets in a way that reminded her of Charles. She cringed. Erik's eyes swept her face briefly before he nodded and came to stand at her side.

For a moment neither of them said anything. They just watched the waves push and pull. Raven glanced at Erik from the corner of her eye. What did he want? Was he there to stalk her or something? He had already turned down her affections at the Mansion and Raven w snot in a mood to offer seconds. "I don't want to talk right now," all of that came out in the mild words she threw at him.

Erik did not look at her though hummed in his throat. "It seems you haven't wanted to talk to anyone. You've been evading us," he pointed out as he turned and leaned his elbows on the railing. His deep eyes stared at her, his frown thoughtful and still so full of anger.

"You don't say," she growled.  
Erik did not rise to the bait. She wish he had. "Charles is worried," Raven rolled her eyes, momentarily letting her anger get the best of her.

"He's always worried," she snapped. "What? He can't spy on me himself anymore so he sent you to do it?" Erik's eyebrows shot up, surprised, but he did not rebuke her statement. Instead, he merely said:

"So this _is_ about Charles." There was enough of her ashamed that she tried to deny it.

"Of course not…"

"About how he erased your memory, and never told you about his father," okay, so Erik was apparently telekinetic too. Raven looked up, surprised. No one else that had come to her the past two days had addressed it. Eventually Raven had begun to think that maybe she imagined the entire thing. That Charles had not showed her that but her own resentment at him had, and she had been carrying around shame for a better part of two days because of it. Now, however, that shame turned to anger and confusion. Erik shrugged at her befuddled look.

"I figured you might be upset about that," he told her briefly. Raven's hand clenched into a tight fist.

"Upset?" She growled. " _Upset?!_ He lied to me! He… he… Manipulated my mind! After he promised not too!" She yelled, feeling heat build beneath her skin.

"He was protecting you," Erik pointed out calmly. "And he technically did not lie to you…"

"He just withheld the truth," Raven spat. Erik did not blink at her sour voice. He only stood there and waited for the rest. Raven was more than happy to oblige him. "I understand _why_ ," she continued hotly. "He wanted me to be happy. He's always been over-protective and now, now I _see_ why…." Like a flame, her anger was blown in another direction with the wind. Her hands clenched so hard around the railings that her blue fingers began to tint white.

"Ugh, it's so disgusting Erik! A _devil_? Really? Charles Xavier, a devil?" she let out a shrieking laugh of contempt. "It's so perverse. Want to know what's even more perverse? The fact that he was a prisoner in his own house and I never knew. I saw the bruises and the dark circles under his eyes, but he never let me remember. He never _let me_. What am I, a dog to be trained to sit and heel when he wants?" Erik opened his mouth to answer but Raven ploughed on, all of the thoughts and feelings she had bottled inside the past two days bubbling over.

"Do you know what? The day Moira took you two to Russia to find Shaw was the first time since we've met that he let me be anywhere without him. The first time since I was twelve years old when I wasn't at his side. I'm _nineteen_. Father is dead so what's Charles afraid of? He's so _controlling_! I've always known but now I discover that he's dictated what I know about my father," she ticked off the things on her fingers.

"My life, my friends, my own body… What else Erik? I trusted him," the last words came out as a shuddering breath as Raven stared out at the endless sea and thought about how dearly she had always trusted Charles. She loved him, and he had betrayed her.

"I _trusted_ him," and he had kept secrets from her and taken her mind from her into his own hands. Raven leaned forward, suddenly feeling as if she needed to puke. Erik was still staring at her, obviously absorbing everything she had said.

After a moment, he spoke. "Charles loves you," it was stated. Raven felt tears sting her eyes.

"Does he?" She whispered. "Or does he love how I trust him and adore him? Does he love _what I am_ , his sister, or _who I am,_ Raven?" _Mystique_ whispered a tiny part of her mind. Erik shrugged.

"I can't answer that, I'm afraid," he replied. "But I can tell you this, whatever piece of you that he loves; he loves it with all his heart and soul. Enough to give up everything for your sake," she blinked away tears ineffectually. She settled for wiping them away with the back of her hands.

"I know," she agreed. "I know, and I… He's my _brother_ ," Erik nodded, as if nothing else need be said. "After seeing what he's been through, I'm… Dammit Erik, I can't help but be so proud of the man he's become. So happy he didn't turn out to be cruel and uncompromising like that _monster_ ," she sneered.

"But you are still angry," Erik surmised.

"Because he still became just as controlling," Raven finished. "If not more so. I'm tired of being controlled Erik. By what the humans say I should look like, by my own insecurities, by Charles. I want to live my own life and be my own person and not have anyone stop me. I used to think Charles wanted that for me too," her voice dropped. The waves hit the side o the ship especially hard, rocking them on their heels. The jolt went to her heart. "Now I'm not so sure," she admitted.

"Raven…"

She interrupted, already knowing what he was going to say because of his world weary tone. "No, Erik, stop trying to defend him," she ordered sternly. "I know why you are. You're grateful to him for all he's done and… And so am I. But our gratitude to Charles can't outweigh our own happiness or ideals," she was surprised by her own words, the weight they held, the meaning to them. She felt then as if she weren't just talking about Chares anymore, or even her, but something and someone much greater.

Their species.

Erik could sense it too. He perked up, staring at her with an intensity that mirrored the strength of the waves. "What do you mean?" He demanded.

Raven inhaled a deep breath and slowly let her anger at Charles turn into anger at the situation. Really, it had not been his fault. It had been no one's fault but the inferior cowards who had forced them into hiding and feared innocent, good people with all of their pathetic hearts. Now it was time to lay the blame where it belonged.

And do something about it.

"You know as well as I do that the humans will hate us the second they lay eyes on us," she said, looking Erik in the eyes. "They will fear us and try to destroy us. We've already seen it. Charles may refuse to believe it, but eventually they will target him whether he wants to fight or not," she felt a surge of determination. "No one will ever call my brother a devil again," she growled.

Erik's eyes lit up. "So what do you propose we do?" He asked softly.

"Take our rightful place," Raven replied without hesitation or uncertainty. "As the dominant species. Shaw was a maniac, but he wasn't wrong. We need our own weapon of change," too bad they had destroyed the radiation machine. They might have merely created another missile with it. Erik crossed his arms.

"That can be arranged easily enough," he said with a tone of voice that said he knew perfectly well what he was talking about. "We'll also need backing. From other mutants," she nodded, excitement growing.

"Mutant and proud," how ironic that the words of an ignorant college girl could have such a large impact on Rave's life. A small smile picked at the corners of his mouth. Then it faded as something occurred to him. Raven could already guess what it was.

"Raven," he spoke slowly, hesitantly.

"Mystique," she interrupted curtly, quite tired of that name. Erik did not ask after the sudden change of heart. He cocked an eyebrow and went on.

"Mystique," he corrected himself. "You know that Charles does not share our views. He won't agree," Erik stopped as if that fact pained him. "And he won't come with us," Mystique had to close her eyes against the sadness that blossomed in her chest. " _All I've ever wanted is your happiness, Raven. It's you and me against the world, remember? I won't go if you aren't coming,"_ After a long second she opened them and faced him with no less determination.

"Then we'll go without him," his eyes widened partially. "I've made my choice. It's his decision what he does and believes in, Erik. I won't try to change him, and he can't be allowed to change me," her eyes flashed. "Not anymore," never again would she hide from the world. Never again would she be lied too and manipulated. She was free.

She was _Mystique._

"Are you sure?" She nodded. Erik sighed.

Mystique felt her heart skip a beat as a sudden doubt occurred to her. "Am I going alone?" She asked. Erik gave her an odd look.

"Are you joking?" he demanded. "A _war_ is coming and I'm never going to be taken prisoner again," he told her. Mystique felt breath whoosh out of her in relief. In truth, she should have seen that coming, but as much as had changed these past few days she was not sure what to believe anymore. Nevertheless, she did not know what she would have done had Erik said yes.

"So we're leaving?" she asked.

"We should go as soon as possible," Erik agreed. "Before we reach D.C. We'll take a submarine or something," he paused, then ploughed on. "You're telling Charles about your decision," Mystique nodded even as her heart skipped a beat. She recognized the command as it partially was- a way to offer he responsibility for the life she had chosen. And a way to give responsibility away himself. She imagined Charles would not be happy.

 _But it's not about him anymore._ She thought. _It's about me, and that is nothing to be ashamed of._


	9. Chapter 9

It felt so good to be in real clothes again. "Now," Michael continued, checking another thing off on his checklist as Charles experimentally turned in his set. The wheelchair beneath him was solid, shiny and… Very low. He was not accustomed to craning his neck to look up at people.

 _I suppose I'll just have to get used to it,_ he thought as he laid his arms on the armrests and leaned back. The padding was comfortable and snug. He wondered if his butt would begin to hurt after awhile. He hated sitting. He hated not being able to tap his foot impatiently.

He turned his thoughts away, trying instead to focus on the slightly too-big dark brown cardigan that Michael had given him along with loose jeans. It had taken Charles a painful and humiliating twenty minutes to get into the pants, struggling to move unresponsive legs into the material while lying own. Michael had been forced to help. Though Charles had never been shy about his body before, his face had burned bright red the entire twenty minutes.

"Can you wheel yourself for me?" Charles too a hole of the side wheels and started rolling. His arm muscles burned with the exertion on it, but he could. "I suppose I'll have to build upper body strength," he mumbled.

"We'll work on that," Michael promised him.

Charles nodded past the lump in his throat. He did not want to work on anything. He wanted to _walk_. "Michael, what's the time of day?" he asked. He had been confined to bed for the past however many days, and there was no clock inside of the room. Michael briefly checked his watch.

"An hour past twelve thirty," Michael answered. Charles nodded.

"Have you seen the others today?" he _could_ use his telepathy to tell where they were. However, ever since he had shown his past two days previous, it seemed as if they were all avoiding him, or more specifically, the touch of his mind in theirs. Charles desperately hoped that he had not hurt any of them with his telekinesis. Erik (the only one who had not avoided him lately) had assured him that he hadn't. Charles had not checked his mind to see if he were lying or not though so he could not tell.

"I have," thankfully, Michael did not need in-depth explanations. He only scanned the list of things he had for Charles distantly. "Moira was arguing with the general about something up on deck earlier. Probably about the man who attacked Sean," Charles nodded. Word had quickly spread about the man who had tried to kill Sean, and Charles had sensed a mixture of emotions from the other sailors.

Approval, interest, worry, indifference or a few wrinkles of dissent. Nothing he had not expected, but it was good progress anyway. At least _some_ people did not totally approve of Mutant murder. "Alex was heading down to the practice rooms with Sean. Hank is in the communications room fixing a technical bug the technicians down there have. He's a brilliant young man," Charles beamed.

"And Erik went to go find Raven," ah, yes. Charles remembered asking his friend to try and see if he could deduce anything about Raven's mood lately. Goodness knew she was continuing to baffle Charles completely. Ever since she had turned sixteen she had been so obsessed with her looks. He imagined the things she had seen in his memories had not helped her either, but she did understand, didn't she?

He had only ever been trying to protect her from his father. It was not that he did not think she was beautiful the way she was. He thought Raven in her natural form was gorgeous, but… It just wasn't safe. And he would do anything to keep her safe. Surely she realized that? Any mistakes he had made had been made out of love.

"You should be in moderate discomfort, Charles. Are you sure you don't feel anything?" Charles shook his head, effectively clearing his mind.

"No," he answered Michael scowled at him and tapped his clipboard.

"Not a pinch or tingle in your back? No stress? You're awfully calm for a man whose life has just been changed dramatically," he observed. Charles smiled dully.

"Perhaps it's an extra mutation," he quipped. Michael was not amused.

"I'm serious here, Charles. Your spine has a small diamond in it. I was never able to pull it out without completely severing your spine and killing you. That diamond is rubbing against nerves, bones, tissues… You have to be feeling _something_ ," he sounded slightly frustrated, as if Charles's evident good health were a bad thing. Charles opened his mouth to ask whether or not it actually was when the door opened. Erik poked his head inside.

"Ah, Erik!" Charles cried, elated to see his friend. "Come in, come in. Michael was just fretting over me," he invited, waving a hand in. Erik stepped into the room. His dark brown hair was tousled and damp from the sea. He smelled of a fresh ocean breeze. Charles suddenly very much wanted to see the ocean. It had been so long since he had last been on a ship.

Erik's brows wrinkled at Charles's comment. He turned to the Dr. "Is something the matter?" he asked.

Michael shrugged. "That's just the problem. According to him," he pointed accusingly at Charles. "Everything is fine, but you don't just come out of things like this fine. It's unnatural," Erik's face tightened.

"We're unnatural beings," he pointed out darkly.

"You're beings with mostly human DNA," Michael corrected. "And everything we know about DNA tells me that Charles is supposed to be in crippling pain right now," Charles studied Erik's face. The muscles of his friend were rigid and his mind was a hailstorm of confliction, but also rock hard with determination. Erik saw him staring and returned the courtesy. His eyes showed the same intention. Charles had a feeling they were going to have an unpleasant conversation.

"Michael," he interrupted his friend's rampage about his health. "Could you give us a moment please?" Michael scowled, unhappy about being cut off but when he saw the intensity of the looks Erik and Charles were giving one another, he nodded and silently turned on his heel.

"Call if you need anything!" he tossed over his shoulder before he shut the door and vanished down the hallway. Charles studied Erik from his position near the ground, hands clenching his armrests. Erik noticed the tiny gesture, born of Charles's need to always move, and a tiny smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"Don't worry, Charles, you still look very intimidating," he assured him coming forward. Charles tried to smile. He was well aware that he had never looked very intimidating. Probably less so now.

"Don't spoil this for me Erik," he scolded genially. He watched Erik closely as the metal bender moved around the room. He felt his wheelchair slowly turning and realized that Erik was turning it to face him completely as he sat down in the chair by Charles's bed. Now they were face to face, equal. Charles let out a breath of relief. Erik had no idea how much that meant to him.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Erik slung a leg over his knee, regarding him with eyes that had softened considerably. "I found Raven," he then said, getting straight to the point. Charles nodded.

"I know," he agreed. "Is she alright then?" Erik gave a small half shrug.

"She's angry, confused, hurt. Nothing a few years of experience won't cure," he told him. Charles scowled.

"She's angry at…Me?" He asked quietly. Erik gave him a 'well, who else?' stare.

"You did erase her memory a few dozen times, Charles. And hid the nature of the man she considered a father from her," he reminded him. Charles felt a stab of uneasiness.

"To _protect_ her," he protested.

Erik nodded easily enough. "Yes, but that does not negate the fact that it wasn't right. You took control of her mind and her choices, Charles. Surely you see how that's wrong? You would be adverse if it were anyone else," no one else had ever mattered to him as much as Raven did. Charles let out a slow breath.

"I know," he finally breathed, closing his eyes. He felt as if a wave had just crashed down on him, and now he was drowning in guilt and shame. He had not meant to hurt his sister, _ever_ , but he just… He couldn't deny that if he was put in the same situation, he would do it again. Just to save her.

"The first time, I felt so sickened by myself. I vowed never to do it again, but when she saw my father throw a glass at me and it almost hit her… I couldn't stand the fear in her eyes, Erik," he admitted. Erik listened closely, a harsh and impartial judge. "After that I just stopped thinking about my guilt. I told myself it was to protect her and nothing more. I think that's actually why that part of my past showed, I never meant to tell her about the memory erasing. My father, maybe, but not that. I suppose I've been telling myself for so long not to be guilty that my caution crumpled. I assumed she'd understand," he let out a bitter, breathy chuckle. "I'm an idiot," he conceded.

Erik hummed in his throat. "True," he agreed thoughtfully. Charles gave him a dry look. He had not wanted Erik to agree with him _there_. The other mutant grinned and abruptly leaned forward, putting a hand on Charles's knee.

"You're not an idiot, Charles. You were a child trapped in a place you shouldn't have been trying to protect the only person who mattered to you. I…. You know I know how that feels," his father. The camps. His only parent succumbing to death because of being overworked.

Charles had seen it in Erik's memory and being reminded of it sent a chill up his partly paralyzed spine. He placed a hand on top of Erik's, squeezing sympathetically. Erik did not want pity. He took his hand away.

"I don't agree with what you did, Charles. I'm on Raven's side about it, but I'd like to think I understand why you did it a bit more than she does," he probably did. Raven, despite her passionate zeal, was still just a child. She could only see the hurt and the anger and the emotion. Something Charles had been trained out of long ago and Erik had suppressed. Both of them out of necessity to survive.

"What I don't understand," Erik went on, mouth thinning. "Is how you can claim humanity can accept us when you've seen otherwise. The humans _ran_ your family out of London," he pointed out. Charles cringed at the bad memory.

"The human's _superstition and fear_ ran us out of London. That was a very different time my friend. All of London was in flames, and… People had begun to lose hope. All they had was Religion and at times they took it too far,"

"They beat you, a child, because they thought you were a devil," Erik scoffed. "Why are you giving excuses for them, Charles? It was _wrong_ ," Charles was the one to snort now.

"I know," he replied darkly. "I used to be angry about it, but then… I see into minds, Erik," it was a blessing and curse he would wish on no living man, but at the same time he was honored to have. It was his greatest gift, the ability to feel and take away someone else's pain.

"I connect to people in a way you cannot imagine. I am not making excuses, I'm telling you the truth as I sensed it. There is good in people, beneath the surface. I see it in you and I see it in them," he told him honestly, and the burning fire of belief in his chest flared, a tiny light in the dark waters threatening to drown him whole. If he believed in anything, it was the goodness in people. He had little else to believe in. Erik was staring at him as if he suspected Charles might have a few brain cells missing. Critical ones.

"That attitude will get you killed one day Charles," Erik told him seriously. Charles could not help but smile.

"My friend," he addressed the man in front of him solemnly. "I know you understand it when I say that I stopped being afraid to die a long time ago," Erik recoiled, surprised. He did not argue though. He stared at Charles with icy sapphires and nodded. He understood.

"Besides," Charles continued, on a more cheerful note. "You'll be there to keep me out of trouble, hmm? If I got into shenanigans standing, imagine what I might do in a _wheel chair_ ," that managed to drag a sincere snicker from Erik. His smile took up his entire face as he ducked to hide it. He had this ridiculous phobia about letting people see him happy.

Charles could not help but laugh too. It had been so long since he had laughed and at the moment when everything in his life felt like it was just _wrong_ … He needed to laugh. More than anything, that was the only medicine he required. He felt a surge of gratitude towards Erik for allowing him the chance.

They snickered together for a moment. Erik leaning forward in his chair, elbows on his knees and Charles trying not to do the same. His shoulder and back would not appreciate it. Then the moment ended and they were left smiling at each other, broken men who had finally realized they were not alone.

Charles felt Erik's melancholy before it even hit the man, transforming the smile and glittering eyes into a scowl of smoothed sorrow. "No, I won't be," the other said softly. Charles cocked his head, confused.

"You've come to tell me something," he stated.

"I'm not going to D.C. with you," the blow rippled through Charles, from his solar plexus to the tips of his fingers, even though he was not surprised. He let none of it show. He could only nod.

"So I assumed," Erik raised both eyebrows at him, his eyes wavering. Subsequently, quite surprising Charles (again) Erik leaned forward and took both of Charles's hands into his own, holding them loosely. Charles looked down, stunned by the show of actual affection.

"I wish you would come," Erik's voice was plaintive, almost pleading. Charles squeezed the hands in his grip. "We are brothers Charles. You and I. We can change this world together," yes they could. They could destroy this world, one life at a time, or they could build it back up into a new world, one agonizing inch at a time. Charles had already made his choice about which he preferred. He smiled a watery smile.

"I wish you would stay, brother mine," he whispered past a lump in his throat. "I could force you to stay," he considered. Erik smiled.

"But you won't," he sounded so sure of himself. Cocky idiot. "I could force you to come," Erik glanced down at the wheelchair and Charles realized it was metal. _Well,_ he thought dazedly. _That evens things up a bit_. He still was not worried.

"But you won't," of course not. "When do you leave?"

"In the morning. There's a small submarine in the lowest part of the ship. Why they need one," he rolled his eyes. "I don't know,"

"Perhaps it was destiny,"

"Or stupidity," Erik went on. "Either way, I'll use it to escape, and then begin preparing for the war to come," Charles noticed Erik did not tell him where he was going. He resisted the urge to read his mind and see.

"I will do everything in my power to prevent that war," he sighed. "You've fought for too long already, my friend. Too long," he patted Erik's hand. The metal-bender cocked his head at him, studying as he often did.

"You seem awfully calm about this, Charles," he observed. Charles smiled.

"You forget Erik. I have read your mind. I've always known how much this crusade of yours means to you. You won't give up your ideals. I respect that, but even so, I also told you I saw something inside of you. Something that is more than just pain and anger. A power source that comes from goodness so raw it's astonishing," he pointed to Erik's heart.

"I don't agree with what you're doing, Erik, but I trust the goodness within you. I trust it will lead you to where you belong," and if that was at Charles's side, then so be it. But Charles would not stand in Erik's way for now. He just had to trust the goodness he knew was inside of him. He _had_ too.

"Charles," Erik's voice broke. He held his hands tighter. "Brother," he restarted. Now Charles felt wetness sting at his eyes. Admittedly, he had never had a friend besides Raven before. True, he had had classmates and teachers and a social life, but it had always seemed hollow. Unfulfilled, as if the people he hung around knew him only skin deep and nothing more. They did not understand like Erik did. So in all essences of the word, Erik was Charles's first friend. And he was leaving.

"Will…" Erik glanced down at the wheelchair and Charles's immobile legs. "Will you be alright?"Charles blinked rapidly.

"I'll be f-"

"I'm not Raven. You don't have to protect me,"

Charles gave a watery chuckle. "Then no, Erik. I very much doubt I'll ever be _alright,_ but I will adapt, and I will survive," that was all any of them could ever do. Erik understood. The other man leaned back in his chair, releasing Charles's hands. He swiped an arm across his eyes, smoothing away any tears. Charles did the same.

"You should tell the others yourself," he told him. Erik nodded and stood. Charles opened his mouth, about to ask if he wanted him to come with him when a knock sounded at the door. They both jumped, pulled out of their moment. Raven poked her head inside. Her face was grave.

"Am I interrupting?"She asked softly, seeing them there.

"No," Charles piped up. "Erik was just about to tell us all something," Raven and Erik exchanged unidentifiable looks. His sister stepped fully into the room, glowing catlike eyes narrowed into slits of anxiety. She shuffled near the door.

"I see," there was something strange about the way she was standing there awkwardly. Raven had never been awkward. Despite her insecurities, she was graceful and confident in all that she did. At least outwardly. Charles felt his gut clench.

The feeling was intensified when Erik put himself between the two siblings. He put both hands on Charles's shoulders, and stared him in the eye. The metal-benders own eyes were swimming with anxious guilt. But why?

"For all of your faults, you're a good man, Charles Xavier," Erik told him so quickly Charles had to strain to hear. "And I would never hurt you purposefully. I wouldn't- _none of us_ \- would be the people we are today if not for you. This is not a punishment, do you hear? I would never hurt you," he gave Charles a little shake that made him hiss in pain. "I would never hurt you," Erik repeated. Before Charles could say anything in response, or even demand to know what was going on, Erik spun on his heel and fairly ran out of the door. Raven closed it behind him and walked forward. Charles raised an eyebrow, feeling very ignorant.

"Do you know what that was about?" he inquired of his sister as she took Erik's spot in the chair. Raven ignored his question.

"Why did you never tell me?" she demanded. Charles did to have to read her mind to know what she was talking about. He sighed.

"About father? You were better off not knowing," he informed her.

Her eyes flashed. "That wasn't your choice to make," she growled.

"Do you regret knowing now?"

"I only regret that I had no idea so I couldn't help you! I only regret that you had to go through it alone," Charles's heart melted at the pure sincere agony in her voice. "And I regret that you thought I was too stupid to be told the truth," she continued.

Charles was taken aback by the assumption. "It was never about me believing you to be stupid Raven…"

"Then what?"

"It was about you being _safe_ ," she rolled her eyes and harrumphed.

"I'm blue, Charles!" She stuck out her arm as an example. "I'll never be safe!" _you have no idea how many nights I've stayed up scared to death of the same concept._

"Believe me," he rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I know. Listen Raven, I'm not saying any of what I did-erasing your memory, hiding father's true nature, not telling you why Hilda and Josef went away- none of those things were _right,_ but… I was a child. I knew only that you were," he thought for a second, then rephrased.

"Hell, you _are_ my only family. I just wanted to give you the life I thought you deserved; one which was so much different from mine. I'm sorry that I had to break my promises to do that but Raven… I would give anything to protect you. _Anything_ ," he willed her to see that, to realize that any mistakes he had made had been made because his heart would wither and die if he did not have her. He wanted to beg her to understand it.

Raven's eyes were shining with tears. Charles desperately wanted to hold her. He hated it when she cried. "Charles," she gulped. "I… I know that. I know what you were doing. Erik was right. I wouldn't be here if not for you. You _raised_ me, taught me everything I know and I… I love you Charlie," she reached forward. She had to lean over his legs but she wrapped her arms around his neck. He folded her into his arms without hesitation. "I love you so much," she whispered into his ear. He stroked her hair and kissed the side of her head. His chest quivered with the same emotion.

"But I can't trust you," Raven continued. Charles's heart skipped a beat. His soul ached with a wave of pain so excruciating it rivaled the diamond puncturing his back. "No matter what reason, you took control of my life from me. You broke your promise. Still, now I've found who I am," she pulled away, gently. Charles felt as if his heart froze over with her warmth gone. He stared at her, tears building in his eyes.

Raven gazed at him with tenderness. She gently stroked a finger across his cheek. "And who I am is on the opposite side of you. I'm not your little girl anymore, Charlie," she swiped away a tear that fell. "I'm grown up. I'm making my own decisions now," she took a deep breath.

"Which is why I've decided to go with Erik," Charles found that his lungs were all of a sudden not working. Matter of fact, he could hardly remember a time when he had ever breathed before. He stared at Raven, horrified. _No,_ he thought for the second time that week, this time every piece of his entire body wishing for it not to be true. _You've taken my legs, taken my parents and my friend… Not my sister. Not Raven._

"What?" He hissed at last, his terror coming off as anger. "Raven, Erik is going to fight a war!" did she realize this? She did it seemed. She nodded.

"And I will help him wage it. We have to do it now, Charles, before the humans…" he interrupted her curtly.

"Have you forgotten that Josef was human? The man who took care of us every day and night?" He demanded. Raven went silent for a moment. She stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head.

"He was a good man," she agreed softly. "But ultimately inferior," Charles could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"He _raised_ us," he hissed. Josef had been the only father Charles had ever had. Only his love for Rave had matched the love he had held for Josef, and even then his adoptive father had possession of a deeper and more intricate piece of his heart. Raven scowled, and anger flashed in her eyes.

"He raised y _ou_ ," what had Erik done to his sister? Now the words his friend had spoken earlier made more sense. _"This is not a punishment, do you hear? I would never hurt you,"_ liar.

"Have you lost your mind?" He nearly yelled, very much believing that she had. "Do you have any clue what a war means, Raven? Death, suffering, _murder._ You are not a murderer, Raven…" her face turned dark.

"My name is Mystique," she told him coldly. Charles stared at her, baffled.

"Raven is the name your parents gave you…"

"Those _Neanderthals_ were not my parents. They abandoned me. Raven is a slave name. I will not be addressed by it," Charles felt like he could not breathe. He could only stare at this girl housed to be his sister and feel as if his soul were dying. "I knew you wouldn't understand," Raven scoffed at seeing his horror. "I'm going to be a freedom fighter and you look at me as if I've committed a crime," had the whole world gone mad?

 _How could you?_ He fired at Erik furiously through their minds. He felt a sting of anger before Erik just sent back tiredly: _She made her own decision. I tried to talk her out of it,_ and she had not listened to either of them.

How could Charles fix this?

He spluttered, for once having no eloquent reply. "You're talking about genocide…"

"Freedom for mutants!" she corrected, yelling. "I don't want to hide anymore, Charles. I will not be a part of a world that denies me freedom. So I'll change it. If you actually wanted me to be safe, you'd have done it a long time ago," that truly made him cringe in pain. She was tearing out his heart.

"By _killing?"_ he nearly shrieked.

"Why not?" She fired back. "All those years of letting your father push you around. You could have killed him so many times. You could have taken control of his mind; you could have… Done something. But you stood there and _let_ it happen. You let him hurt you and I will not do that. I'll learn from your mistakes since you don't seem too keen to do it!" She raised her chin, towering over him. "I will not be weak," she hissed.

"No, you'll just be a killer,"

"An eye for an eye,"

"We have it in us to be the better people, Raven. This is not who we are. This is not who _you_ are!"

She glared at him. "No, this is not who you wanted me to be. Allow me to introduce myself to you. I am _Mystique_ ," his world crumbled. He closed his eyes as the waters which had threatened took him under. He struggled to remain calm.

Finally, he got his voice under control. "I won't allow you to throw your life away," he informed her sternly. Raven's hackles raised.

"What gives you the right to decide what _I_ do with _my_ life?"

"I raised you!"

"You lied to me and hid things from me!"

"I was trying to _protect_ you!"

"You were trying to _control_ me!" It seemed they had very different definitions of the same word. Charles sat back in his seat. He was tired, so tired and afraid and _damn,_ when had this become his life? He massaged his forehead. Raven jumped as if she suspected he might try to take control of her mind. The movement made Charles's heart ache again. He tried one more time.

"Please, Raven," his voice trembled as he lowered it. He was tired of fighting. He had never wanted to fight her. "Don't make me lose you. Not like this," his plea went straight to a rock hard heart and bounced off. Raven shook her head and stepped around him, back straight, shoulders set and proud until the end.

"You lost me a long time ago, Charlie. I'm going with Erik in the morning," and then she was gone, out of the door without even a glance back at the brother who had given everything for her sake and lost her anyway. She slammed the door so hard the walls shook.

Charles stared at the door for a long moment. Then, as his heart and soul vanished before his eyes, he leaned forward and wept.


	10. Chapter 10

_"_ _Any of you who wish to come are more than welcome,"_

Oh, they were, were they? Alex rammed a hard fist into the punching bag. A grim sort of satisfaction settled in his gut when it shivered beneath his hand. How he wanted to blow something up right now…

 _"_ _What about Charles?"_

Alex swung around on one heel and delivered a right kick to the bag, and another and another, all without moving, letting his body do what it was designed to do. Help him survive. It was times like this when Alex felt most in his element. When he could forget the world and the worries and just go back to the basest, simplest thoughts of eat, fight and breathe.

 _"_ _He isn't coming. He doesn't believe in it,"_

Of course he didn't! What Erik wanted- world domination- was wrong. Whether humans or mutants started it made no difference. What was wrong was wrong. It was hypocritical. It went against everything Alex had thought they were fighting against. But it seemed that Erik had possessed his own agenda. Now he was just leaving them all behind. Alex should have known. Guys like Erik never stuck around long. And Raven… He could at least blame Erik's leaving on his insanity and nature but her?

 _"_ _What if we don't want to go?"_

Alex was not leaving. He did not care about the war Erik claimed was coming or evolution or the future or anything. All he knew was that when Erik and Charles had found him in his prison cell all those months ago, he had been alone. He had _wanted_ to be alone, and his life had been a torment of loneliness, pain and guilt. Then they had offered him a purpose and a team. They had offered the thing Alex had most wanted his entire life: a family. And unlike Erik, he knew what family meant. It meant that you never left the other person behind. Not for anything.

 _"_ _If you don't want to come, you're more than welcome to stay with Charles. He'll be going back to the U.S."_

Why Erik had phrased that as if it were an insult was slightly offensive. Alex was an American. Mutant or not, he was still proud of that fact. Sweat stung at his eyes as he hopped on his toes around the boxing bag, ready to extinguish it. Alex knew that things were probably going to get ugly in D.C, but he was ready for that. It was only natural since people had never known about mutants until now. If things did get ugly, Alex would be there to defend his friends, especially Charles. The guy was in a wheel hair now. He would need some looking after. He had believed in Alex when no one else had. Alex was determined to repay the favor or die trying.

 _"_ _Erik…You don't have to do this! Surely you knew none of us would come willingly?"_

Alex had liked Erik. The guy was not very emotional and frankly sort of scary but there were times when he showed a bit of humanity. Like the early days of trials with Banshee's suit and the little red head had flown out of the window with a yelp. Alex had watched as Erik nearly toppled to the ground laughing. And as he had watched, before he knew what was coming, Erik had pulled him and Raven down into a pile of hysteric giggles. It was then that he had started to see the other man as an older brother of sorts. His older brother was abandoning them.

 _"_ _I wouldn't say that. I'm going, after all,"_

And Raven. She had become a little sister to him in the past few months. He knew he was not as close to her as Charles was, but that did not matter. She was still Raven-funny, unsure, sweet-he felt responsible for her. When he had learned she was going with Erik into war… He slammed both elbows into the punching bag with a roar of rage. How could she do this to them? To Charles? Granted, Alex had seen what Charles had done to _her._ He had erased her memory and never told her about his dad and stuff, but…That was no reason just to up and leave; was it? Sure, Charles did some stupid, bad stuff. But he was a good man. Why couldn't they just talk it out? Alex huffed, knowing that if it had been him, he probably would have left too after learning that.

 _"_ _We're leaving first thing in the morning with Shaw's mutants. Who's coming with us?"_

Alex had been relieved when no one had raised their hand. Instead, Hank had shook his head, staring at Raven as if he did not know her. Sean gazed at them blankly as if he could not remember who they were and Alex stood there fuming. Why did everything good in his life get ripped away? And what was this, fraternizing with the enemy now? Shaw's mutants? Angel and the other two? Those _traitors!?_ Alex slammed his fists against the punching bag, getting loser and his jabs becoming faster as fury built inside of him. They were supposed to be a team.

 _"_ _It seems you're going alone,"_

Despite himself, the hurt in his chest grew when he remembered how devastated Raven had looked. She turned to Hank, eyes imploring, but Beast turned away. Erik had gazed at them sadly, but he did not try to convince anyone. Instead, he met eyes with Alex, and the sorrow there nearly sent him into a rage at once. What right did Erik have to stand there and pretend they were the lost ones? What right did he have to break apart their team and yet gaze at them with remorse?! It wasn't fair. Alex wanted to be angry at him, wanted to blame them both, but he couldn't… Damn it, he could only miss them already and hope to everything good they did not get hurt or worse out there. _Damn_ it!

 _"_ _So be it,"_

The punching bag was suddenly gone. Alex realized his eyes were closed and opened them to see the source of his anger lying on the ground a few feet away. He had snapped the chain. Alex stood there a moment, breathing hard and trying to get himself under control.

"Impressive," he swiveled around, startled by the sudden voice. He was surprised half way out of his boots to see Charles in the doorway. His metal wheelchair twinkled in the gym lights. Alex realized that he alone stood there, dripping sweat. The men on board had learned that it was a bad idea to come down here when he was in a bad mood. Charles wheeled himself inside, gazing at the chain Alex had snapped.

"You did it without your powers, even," the professor observed shrewdly. "Erik taught you well," for defensive fighting and martial arts skills had fallen to Erik to teach them. Charles had proclaimed it uncivilized and opted out. Alex happened to know that that had not stopped Erik from giving the professor some advanced lessons on it though. Charles probably knew karate by now.

And he was in a wheelchair.

Alex snatched out the protective mouth piece so he could speak freely. "Yeah," Alex gulped. "So, did he tell you?" Charles nodded and sighed, turning his wheelchair towards Alex. He gazed at him with bloodshot, dead eyes. Alex shuffled awkwardly. It did not take a Hank-sized genius to tell that Charles had been crying.

"He told me first, actually," of course. That was why Charles looked so calm. He had known before Alex.

"And Raven?" He instantly regretted asking when he saw Charles flinch as if he had been struck.

"I know." Okay then. Alex suddenly wanted to offer the professor a beer. He looked like he needed one. "Are you going with them?" Charles then asked, and Alex felt a rush of anger again.

"No," he told him emphatically. "How could you even ask me that, Charles? I don't believe in their stupid crusade of justice or whatever they're calling it. It's stupid and arrogant. Besides, I'm not leaving…" he halted, before he could finish that sentence and _totally_ embarrass himself now. Charles needed no more explanation anyway. He smiled lightly raised his hands in a sign of peace.

"I was just asking. It is good to know someone is sane on this boat, at least," Alex felt guilt stab at him. After the week Charles had had, he did not deserve to be yelled at even more. Alex was too proud to apologize though.

"Yeah," he mumbled again. "You know Hank and Sean aren't…?"

"Going, yes. I already asked them," Alex nodded. Then, as something occurred to him, he waved at his forehead.

"Why didn't you just read our minds? It would have been quicker," as soon as it came from his mouth he realized it was the worst thing to say. Charles's eyes flashed and his face drained of color.

"I…" Alex watched Charles struggle for control of whatever emotion was strangling him. "I've noticed that reading people's minds has gotten me into quite a bit of trouble nowadays," no more needed be said. Alex really felt bad now. He scratched his head, wondering how to say what he wanted without sounding…Well…Mushy.

"Listen prof," he began. "Not that I want you going on a joy ride through my head or anything, but… I trust you, ya know. In there, I mean. I mean you, like, trusted us enough to know so I… I mean I just… I trust you," well, from that conversation he was sure it was obvious that he was the most intelligent being on the face of the planet. Charles was chuckling though, not in a mocking way but just… In that quiet, caring way of his that let Alex know he was pleased.

"Thank you, Alex," Charles said merely. Alex gave an uncomfortable shrug.

"Yeah, well…" he was not feeling a spread of warmth in his chest because who did that? He was almost eighteen for goodness sakes; he couldn't just walk around _feeling_ stuff. It was unnatural, more unnatural than his entire existence already was. Alex glanced down at the professor, and from the amused smile could tell Charles was listening to his every thought.

"Well," Alex repeated with finality, that being the only thing he had to say on the matter. _I'm an articulate eighteen year old, after all,_ the number brought an image unbidden into his head, one which did not come from his memory.

"Hey Charles," he suddenly said aloud, voicing his thoughts. "Whatever happened to Josef and Hilda?" Though it had been asked out of genuine curiosity, the way that Charles's gentle smile suddenly dropped into an expressionless scowl complete with eyes darkened and dead made a shiver run up his spine. He suddenly felt cold.

Charles did not deny him knowledge though. It seemed he had learned his lesson about withholding information. Still, when he spoke it was as if he were reading out of a textbook. "Have you ever heard of a pogrom, Alex?" He asked emotionlessly. Alex shook his head. The word sounded bad, though.

"No," _I have a feeling it's not good though._

"It is a mob harassment or killing of Jews," for one of the first times Alex saw rage flicker in Charles's eyes. He recalled Josef and Hilda, the love he knew Charles had felt for them despite their differences. " _Do you remember what you told me equality meant?"_

 _"_ _You and I are the same,"_

While Erik and Raven wanted freedom, Charles wanted equality. Alex wondered which he would advocate for. "There were quite a few after WWII ended. I'm afraid," a sigh. "Josef and Hilda were caught in one," Alex gulped. They were dead, then, the only parents that Charles had ever really had.

"I'm sorry," he truly was because he knew… "My parents are dead, too," Alex was startled by the voice that had just said that. Had it been his? He had not meant to just burst out with that. Charles cocked an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. He only sat there, listening. Alex felt as if he had to explain himself now that he had just popped out and said it.

"I mean, I think they're dead," he stammered. "I always told myself they were, but I don't know. I guess they could have just left. No one told me," his grandparents had raised him and Scott. Cranky and bitter, his grandfather had always sneered that he reminded him of his father Alex had learned early on in life that that was a bad thing. His grandmother had been kinder, but weak-willed.

Any abuse their grandfather dished out with his tongue their grandmother would happily agree with if only to spare herself. From her Alex had learned selfishness. He hoped Scott would not learn the same. Last he had seen his little brother; he was living with an aunt of theirs, a gentle and passionate surrogate mother. But not gentle and passionate enough to accept any disruptions in her house, and Alex counted mutation as one of those. Alex had left before his powers ruined the one chance at a normal life that Scott had.

"Maybe they knew about my mutation. Maybe they just didn't care. I don't know," he scuffed his shoe on the boxing mat and jammed his hands into his pockets. "Prof, do you think…?" He trailed off, relaxing that his rambling had taken him down a vulnerable and dark path. He clamped his mouth shut. Years of learning what not to say in order to keep Scott relatively healthy in the head stayed his tongue. But he had forgotten that Charles, too, was a big brother. And what was more, he was a telepath. The other smiled sadly.

"No, Alex," he told him softly. "I don't think you're like your parents. You did leave your brother, that is true, but I doubt your parents-if they did leave- had quite the same motives. I don't know if what you did was actually the right thing to do, but I do know you did it with a good heart. One day, Scott will understand that too," Alex felt tears sting at his eyes. His shoulders sank a little in relief. He had told himself that at least ten million times by now but just hearing someone else say it took some of the guilt away. He nodded.

"Thanks, Charles," said man nodded and it only took an Alex-sized genius to know what he was thinking. "You know," Alex said, wanting to give something back to make Charles feel better. "I don't know if what you did with Raven and everything was right either, but I do know you did it because you wanted her to be happy. One day, Raven will get that," and the light that suddenly brightened Charles's eyes made Alex feel as if he were not such a failure after all.

Charles's shoulders loosened. "Thank you, Alex. We should get to bed," Alex nodded and snatched off his boxing gloves.

"I'll wheel you there," they had a long day tomorrow after all. It was when Erik and Raven were leaving and on from there to D.C to help decide the fate of mutant kind. Alex prepared himself for the worst. He was relatively sure this might be the last day of peace he would have for awhile, and that thought made him feel very, very alone. That feeling was quickly ousted by a gentle voice in his mind though, as comforting as a flame and wise as the wick.

 _"_ _You're with friends now, Alex,"_ Charles told him. _"You're never alone."_


	11. Chapter 11

The Next Day:

Moira did not know how the hell she had convinced the general to let Erik have this damned submarine (she had probably done it with the help of Charles; or something) but she was starting to regret it.

It was not as if she had not known what it was for. She had been there when Erik announced he was going to fight a currently nonexistent war, of course. He had even given her a small dip of the head and assured her that in the new world, she would have a place for what she had done for mutant kind. Meaning Charles.

And also meaning, Moira knew, that she would probably be reduced to a second class citizen, forced to serve the mutants around her for the rest of her life. She had kindly told Erik where he could stuff his proposition _and_ his new world. Sean had commented upon her choice of words, whistling beneath his breath and stating _"that's just not nice."_

Despite that debacle, when Charles had asked her the night before to talk to the general about _giving_ Erik and Raven the sub instead of having them steal it, she had been unable to decline.

Now she wondered how she had managed it and also wished that she had not. Despite any difference she and Erik had, Moira still respected him. She had not come to see him as a friend, but definitely as an ally. She was loathe to admit that she was sad to see him go.

And Raven… She recognized a lot of herself in Raven. She saw her younger self the same way, self-conscious about her looks and ability. Moira had once suffered from the same insecurities, and she had fantasized about taking Raven on a shopping spree and maybe talking to her about it when they were done with Cuba.

That domestic dream was being shattered now, as Raven and Erik prepared to leave. The submarine rested on the side of the ship, partially raised out of water. A small crowd of soldiers, eyes wary and curious at once stood on deck. They stood in a quiet, shuffling ring a few feet away from the mutants, staring. None of them knew the real reason that Erik was leaving. They knew better than to ask. Not even the general knew the real answer, but he was there too. Standing to the side and watching with eyes that saw too much.

Also free were the three prisoners. Azazel, Riptide and Angel had already jumped into the submarine. They were below, getting everything ready for take-off. Only Erik and Raven stood on deck, ignoring the crowd with barely contained frustration.

Moira could tell Charles was uneasy too. He was still getting used to being seen in his wheelchair, and she was sure he could feel the mocking and evaluating eyes on his new transportation.

Nevertheless, he was taking it with serene Charles calm, raising a hand to squint at the blinding sun. There was not a cloud in the sky and the incessant roar of waves was their only indication of moving. The sun seemed at a standstill. Moira could swear it had been in that exact same spot for three hours now.

Hank, Sean and Alex stood behind Charles, silent, brooding. Moira stood at his side, wondering what to do, what to say. Should she say anything?

"Erik!" That was Angel. Her burnt wing had healed in captivity. She fluttered off the side of the deck, flashing a disgusted look at the soldiers that whistled and hooted upon seeing her. "We're all set to go!" She called. Erik nodded, placing his hands in his pockets. He looked as calm as Charles did.

"Thank you Angel," he replied. "Tell the others to wait," he ordered. Angel nodded and turned, but as if she had remembered something she quickly spun in midair and quickly flittered to the deck. She crossed the small distance from the railing to Charles and gave him a chaste kiss on the forehead.

"I'd still be a stripper if not for you," she told him quickly. "I never got to thank you for finding me that day, professor," Moira crossed her arms, uncertain about how to take this new development. There was sincerity in Angel's eyes however. Charles smiled and squeezed her hand.

"It was quite my pleasure, Angel. Take care of yourself, hmm?" She nodded and stood. Her eyes locked with the boys. A small, hesitant half smile took over.

"Thanks for that night, boys. It was wild," Moira shook her head, remembering the night that Shaw had attacked. Had it only been a few months before? Alex gave a shrug, Hank shuffled his feet and Sean smirked.

"No problem, Angel. See you later," Sean chirped for all of them.

"And Angel?" Alex nodded to her. "Don't forget to find time for dancing," Moira looked back at him, wondering if he were making fun of her but Alex's face was serious. Angel seemed to understand. She nodded and in a quick flitter of her long wings had vanished over the side into the submarine.

A wave splashed against the side of the ship, spraying a bit of sea foam unto the deck. Moira wondered if that meant they were approaching land. Raven pretended to be indignant about the water seeping into her boots. Erik walked towards them, his blue eyes shaded into a darker color by the sun.

His eyes scanned Hank, Sean and Alex. "Are you sure none of you would like to come?" Moira felt Charles stiffen at her side, but his worry was misplaced. Alex, Sean and Hank shuffled closer to his wheelchair, faces stubborn.

"We're sure, Erik," Han told him passively enough. "Thanks," Erik let a small sardonic smile cross his lips.

"I thought not," he admitted. "Well in that case, I'm proud of you, even if you aren't coming. You three have worked hard and you have good hearts. You should stand up for what you believe in," Alex swallowed hard. Sean blinked back tears and Hank's fists clenched.

"Yes, well," the blue one mumbled, his fists loosening at a calming glance from Charles. Raven appeared over Erik's shoulder. "We had a good teacher," Erik looked a bit surprised, his eyebrows shooting up as if to say: _who, me?_ Hank grinned with feral teeth and stepped forward, offering one giant paw. "Be safe, Erik," Erik smiled and stepped forward to shake the paw.

"You too," while Erik moved down the line, shaking each hand, Raven approached her. Moira sighed and decided for the gentler truth.

"I'm glad you found a purpose, Raven. I really am," Raven smiled back, yellow cat eyes blinking slowly. There was arrogance there. She thought Moira was inferior after all, but there was also fondness.

"Thanks. Will you do something for me?" The way she said it told Moira she expected that it would be done whether Moira consented or not. She waited.

"If he finds someone else," Raven nodded towards Hank. There was genuine sadness in her eyes now. "Someone who really cares about him, don't let him back out just because he's afraid, all right? He deserves better," _better than me,_ Moira heard the rest of the statement even if it was not spoken. Her heart ached. She nodded and suddenly pulled Raven into a tight hug.

"I will," she promised as Raven hesitantly wrapped her arms around her. She hugged her close. This was the last moment they would be together as friends. For the past few months they had been the only girls in a mansion of men. That kinship would not die. "Goodbye, Raven," Raven nodded.

"Take care, Moira," they separated. Raven looked over her shoulder and grinned at Sean. He was waiting theatrically, tapping his foot as he waited for his own hug.

"What am I, chopped liver?" he demanded.

"A screaming ghost, actually," Raven chuckled as she moved from one body to another. She squeezed Moira's arm, and then she was gone. Moira turned around to see Erik kneeling in front of Charles's wheelchair, staring up at him with the look of a man who very much wanted to continue arguing, but kept silent out of propriety alone. The younger man looked down at him with a look of sadness, but also of resolution.

"Erik," he was saying, softly so as to not alert the soldiers who were watching. "If it comes down to a battle between us… Let it be me," Moira's eyebrows scrunched, and it occurred to her that it was rude to eavesdrop. Still, what did Charles mean, _let it be me?_ Judging by Erik's look of acute horror, though, he meant…

 _Oh._

He meant that should someone need to die in the battle that was sure to erupt between the old friends remade into enemies, Charles wanted to be that one. He did not want to kill Erik; so he was asking Erik to kill him.

 _Bloody idiot._

Moira gulped. Erik did so as well. "Charles, don't ever ask me to…" Charles lowered his voice.

"Please, Erik. I cannot bear to lose another friend," Charles's eyes flashed to Raven, then back to Erik's face, his own eyes desperate. Erik glanced at the soldiers watching anxiously before closing his eyes.

Slowly, as if it pained him, he gave a small nod of the head. Charles laid a hand on his shoulder. "I know I don't have to ask you to take care of Raven," he changed the subject mournfully. Erik shook his head, eyes still closed.

"I will protect her with my life," he swore. Charles nodded just as Raven appeared over Erik's shoulder. Moira saw absolute trust flash in his stormy blue eyes before he squeezed Erik's shoulder.

"Goodbye, Erik," he whispered and his voice sounded like the wise breathing of the ocean.

"Goodbye, old friend," Erik stood and his voice had sounded like the accepting suckling of fire. Raven dropped to her knees in front of Charles. The telepath took both of her hands into his.

He stared at her, and she at him, both of them stubborn, self-righteous, loyal…Hurting. Moira felt a lump in her throat. A warm and furry hand landed on her shoulder. She did not have to turn to know that it was Hank standing behind her, his eyes glued to the goodbye as if it were his own. In a way, Moira supposed it was.

All of a sudden, startling Moira with how fast she could move, Raven had lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Charles's neck. He, on the other hand, was not surprised. Large hands wrapped around her torso and stroked her orange hair. "I would get on my knees and beg you to be safe," Charles told her in a choked voice.

"But it might prove problematic for me, and I don't think you'd listen anyway," They both barked a short snort of laughter, as if it were some private joke between them, made harsher by present circumstances.

Raven hid her face in Charles's neck for a moment, but Moira still heard a muffled voice say: "I love you Charles," His grip tightened.

"I love you too Raven. Be safe," the thought of safety probably had not occurred to her. She was going off to war, after all. Charles caught the stray thought and flashed Moira a look full of pain. He knew.

She cringed apologetically and allowed Hank to guide her behind Charles. Raven stood, letting her eyes wander over the remaining group. Erik came to her side. The friends all stared desolately at one another, no one quite sure how to break the silence. Erik's eyes shifted to the humans, palpable hatred in his eyes.

Then, without another word, he turned swiftly on his heel and walked to the edge of the boat. He did not look back. Raven's eyes lingered on Hank, sad, regretful. "And Beast," she called. "Remember, Mutant and Proud!" she swiveled, running after Erik.

Together, the two of them hopped over the side into the waiting hole of the submarine. Moira heard a whooshing swish that she took to be the waves pulling them into her bosom, and then silence. The others were gone, leaving six very frightened and heartbroken people behind to face the future alone.


	12. Chapter 12

_Technically, I could create an anti-acid that would burn through the diamond in his spine… But the damage is already done to the nerves down there so they would have to be knit back together… Maybe small robots, no, I'm terrible at mechanics. Erik could have… No, okay, so this chemical ingredient should be enough to burn through dia-_

"Hey there Hank," Hank let out a shriek (in his new form, it sounded more like a roar) of fright and just about jumped out of his skin. The chemical equation he had been writing out on the ground suddenly found itself with a long pencil mark through most of it due to his sudden movement. He looked down, and frustration mingled with rage bubbled beneath his skin. He needed that!

"No!" he shouted, turning. "Sean!" he cried when he saw who it was standing above him, gazing at Hank with blatant curiosity. "You've ruined my equation!" he growled, resisting the urge to take Sean's windpipe in a justified strangle-hold. He had spent the past _six hours_ working on that.

Sean did not appear worried at the apparent murderous tone in his voice though. The orange-haired youth only cocked his head and pointed to the paper with his toe.

"You're writing equations? What, like math stuff?" he asked. Hank wanted to roll his eyes at the superfluous use of the word ' _like,'_ but he refrained. He only pointed one clawed finger at Sean.

"Get out," he ordered, pointing to the door. Sean barked a short laugh.

"Oh come on beastie! Don't send me out of the closet!" He mock complained, gesturing around. Hank was indeed housed in a storage closet, complete with a cot on the floor surrounded by mops, brooms and soiled rags. It smelt like warm mold in this room, and it had been bothering Hank all day, enough to where his head was aching. But it was also the only place where he was most likely to get some peace and quiet.

Until now.

"I just want to know what you're doing, Hank," Sean informed him passively. "Alex is busy beating a boxing bag again, Moira is doing some Yoga/Tai-Chi thing on the deck somewhere and Charles is with Dr. Fisher dude doing some therapy for his back. I'm bored," he informed him, with a slight pout that was very unbecoming.

Hank, who had grown up an only child for most of his life, became suddenly aware that this might have been what it was like to have a younger sibling _. I regret every minute I spent wishing I had one,_ he thought begrudgingly.

"Sean, you aren't five. You should be able to be self-sufficient without someone around to amuse you," he grumbled. Sean shrugged.

" _Should_ being the relative point," he agreed.

"Well," Hank turned his back on him."I'm not a toy and I do have better things to do than play with you. Go scream at the water; see if you can pull off echolocation well enough to attract dolphins. It'll be a hit with the soldiers," he started violently erasing the pencil mark smearing his delicate work, temper rising when Sean still did not move.

"I can't," the other boy remarked, sounding a bit irritated himself now. "Those waves are getting pretty big. General says a storm will hit us in a few hours," Hank opened his mouth, about to tell Sean that that was preposterous, when he heard it.

Thunder, rolling in with a drumming roar. And lightning. He had probably ignored it in his experimentation. Well, that would probably be another damper to his work ethic. Hank groaned and rubbed at his eyes. _Of course_ Mother Nature would be against him. It was never with him. _If it had, I wouldn't have been born like this;_ he raised a furry paw and stared down at it.

 _"_ _Mutant and proud,"_ Raven had told him, but Hank could only scoff in his mind. He was proud of what he could do, but the way he looked and sounded and now had started to act? Like an animal?

How could he be anything but ashamed? He envied Raven. At least she looked cool. He just looked like a Gorilla. "Hey," and now Sean was poking the back of his head. "What are you thinking about now, Dr. Frankenstein?" Hank's patience finally snapped. With a loud growl that scared even him, he swiveled around and grabbed Sean's arm before he could poke him again.

"Don't…" He halted upon seeing Sean's wide eyes staring at him, fear and hurt mingling in his childish eyes. Hank saw why. His claws had dung into Sean's upper arm where he had grabbed him. Five tiny droplets of blood trickled out from around Hank's hand. He gasped in horror and snatched away his hand as if he had been burned. Sean remained silent, staring at the small puncture wounds in his arm. Lightning crackled in the sky beyond. The ship rocked.

"Nice claws," Sean gulped, at last. Hank was up in a second, grabbing for the rolls of gauze left over from when they had bandaged Charles.

"Sean, I'm sorry!" He gasped, as guilt slashed his heart. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that," he said, taking Sean's bleeding arm gently in his hands and bandaging where his claws had sunk into the flesh. Sean nodded, still staring at the blood as if he were going to be sick.

"Yeah," he murmured.

"Sean, please believe me," Hank pleaded, his mind flashing back to a scream of pure terror when some of the other boys got a glimpse of his feet and looked at him with the same fear and hurt in their eyes at Sean. Hank couldn't handle being a freak not only to the humans but to the mutants too. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said again. Sean seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in. He looked up at Hank, finally blinking blearily in the light.

"I know, Hank," he said, and his voice was softer than Hank had ever heard, the mournful song of a Banshee. "It's okay. I shouldn't have bothered you, I guess. Sorry," he mumbled, with a contriteness that belied his usual spirit and bright candor. Hank stared at him, flabbergasted. "I just… I'm used to being around lots of kids, ya know? At the orphanage, I was always with other people," he shivered. "This place is lonely, I guess," he mumbled.

Hank gazed at Sean for a long time, speechless. _Orphanage?_ Well, he supposed he should have guessed it. Sean was the youngest of them all at sixteen. Erik and Charles had not gone around kidnapping people without parent permission.

 _Where did you think his parents were?_ Hank berated himself, already knowing the answer. Admittedly, he had not even given though to Sean's parents. The other boy was always so light-hearted and candid that it seemed as if he were a mere boy. He reminded Hank a lot of what he had always imagined Peter Pan to be, careless, free, without ties or roots to hold him down.

And indeed Sean was like that- but in a very different way. Hank cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, um…" he was not a people person. He was a scientist. As so, his curiosity won over his common sense. "Do you know where they are?" An insensitive scientist at that. Wow.

Sean did not seem to mind, though. He gently patted his arm, thick with bandages, and nodded. "Yeah," he answered, casually enough. "They're dead. Killed in a train crash when I was, like; four. No one in the family wanted me because I was always crying, loudly," he grinned, roguishly. "Guess I know why now," he supposed. Hank nodded, wondering how Sean could smile about that.

Sean's eyes slid over Hank's face, assessing, before he went on. "The Orphanage wasn't a bad place," he assured Hank. "I wasn't unhappy there. The people were nice to all of us, sent us to school, made us comfortable… But I always had the feeling that they were so nice because they were paid well. Not because they liked me or anything, but because they liked what my presence got them. Plus, I couldn't very well let them know about," he gestured to his throat. Hank nodded understandingly.

"I was the best whistler, of course. The best spitter, too, and singer but that was all I could show them. Anything else-what I showed all of you guys, glass breaking, echolocation-I learned on my own. I guess even though I was surrounded by people all the time, I was always alone. I just didn't realize it until Erik and Raven left and well… what do you think will happen, Hank?" Surprised by the question, Hank could only blink and ask blankly:

"What?"

"I mean, when we get to D.C and everything," Sean reiterated. "And beyond, maybe. Erik and Raven… They won't be on our side. The humans will fear us like that dude who tried to kill me. Things will get violent, probably. Do you think Charles would send us all back? Erase our memories like he did Raven so that we never remember…" Sean gestured around to the ship and the adventure that they had survived. "Any of this?" he asked.

Hank blinked, taken aback. The possibility had never occurred to him, but now that Sean mentioned it, Charles technically could do that. And furthermore, Hank would not be surprised if Charles were willing to do that in order to protect them. The thought filled him with fear. He didn't want to forget, despite all that had happened. He never wanted to forget his friends, and the things he had learned. _Raven._

Then Hank thought of the way Charles had found them and brought them back to his home. How he had trained them alongside Erik, and how now that Raven was gone, the telepath had been missing from their minds. Before, Hank had known that Charles was always a slight presence in the back of his skull, watching. Raven's anger had taught him a lesson though. Since then Hank had not felt him anywhere near his mind. Still….

"If he really had too?" Hank supposed. "Yes, I think he would. But only if it got really bad. Only if there was no other way," when and if that happened, he could not predict, but he knew one thing. "Nevertheless, I'm not leaving him," he gestured to the chemical formula. "I promised him a cure. I will fulfill that promise," Sean's eyes grew wide.

"That's what you're doing?" Then he gasped. "Can it even be done?" Hank snorted.

"Can a machine meant to enhance the powers of a telepath be invented? Can a metal sphere be powerful enough to withstand and control Alex's laser blasts? You, my friend, should have more faith by this time," he put a hand on Sean's shoulder. "In everything," he added softly. Sean smiled, and the old mischievous light in his eyes grew.

"Hey, I had faith in you and you clawed me,"

Hank gave him a dry look. "I already said sorry, Sean. You've got to get over it," They engaged in a staring contest, each daring the other to laugh first. Sean lost. It didn't necessarily matter at that point though because two seconds later Hank was laughing too. The two mutants laughed until their sides were aching and the bubble of graveness that had surrounded them popped.

The ship rocked with a long groan. Hank heard thunder rolling in the sky. He looked up as the lights began to flicker. Sean did as well. "Wow," the red-headed one breathed. Hank scowled, worriedly.

"I don't think that's normal," he muttered. As if he had been summoned, there was a pressure in the back of his mind and then Charles was speaking in his head, sounding concerned.

 _I have the same feeling, Hank,_ the telepath called. _All of you; come to my room at once. I'd rather we were together._

 _Is something up, prof?_ Hank jumped, exchanging a started look with Sean. Hank assumed that they had both heard Alex's thought in their heads. Charles must have linked their minds somehow. He might have found it fascinating if he weren't so worried about all of them dying.

 _Nothing as of yet,_ Charles replied. _But I can feel the minds of the men. Something isn't right about this storm. It's making them edgy and I share that apprehension_ , Hank caught on immediately.

 _The mutant with tornado powers,_ he guessed. _You think he's causing this, to make the ship sink_. He could just make out a telepathic sigh and realized that this was one of those times when he probably should not have said anything.

 _It's possible,_ Charles admitted.

 _We should warn the crew then,_ that was Moira.

 _We don't know anything for sure,_ Charles told her firmly _. This could be just a regular storm. There are quite a few when one gets closer to the Eastern coast, I hear. Best not to upset anyone until we know for sure._ Sean and Hank exchanged a glance before standing. Hank scooped up the formula and stuffed it into the breast pocket of his suit.

 _We're on our way, professor,_ he sent.

* * *

Riptide had heard the lightning before they even left the ship.

He knew that it was not going to be a bad storm, a mere demonstration from the sky that would pass in the morning. The American fleet would be able to handle it easily. But it would be the perfect opportunity to take care of the humans that had imprisoned him, and also the mutants who had taken their side.

He knew that the new boss and his girlfriend wouldn't agree when he did it. After all, not even a few minutes into their submarine journey, Riptide had turned to Angel and Azazel and sneered "those cowardly traitors," beneath his breath. Erik, despite the helmet on his head, turned around so swiftly that his cape had whipped Mystique in the hip.

 _"_ _Riptide,"_ he had frozen, heart skipping a beat when the metal of the submarine began to quiver with rage. _"Never let me hear an insult against those people again, do you understand?"_ He had, for the sake of staying alive. He and Azazel had slunk away then, casting vicious glances over their shoulder. Angel had shrugged and headed over to talk to Mystique as if they had been friends all along.

Riptide had sat down, enraged that this new leader would allow those pathetic inferiors to go free. And why? For the sake of a few mutants who used to be his friends? That was not how this game was played. In this game, it was all or nothing. No excuses, no attachments, no mercy.

Riptide would be sure to teach the boss that new lesson. So as the others had sat at their separate stations, manning the submarine's progress towards Europe, he had slowly stirred his fingers in a lazy line, creating an underwater tornado a few miles away. He could feel it growing steadily, more and more with each passing second and knew that within a few hours it would be large enough to swallow that ship whole. They would all die; mutants and humans alike.

The small storm would make it seem like a tragic accident by Mother Nature. And then this war could really begin.

Riptide smiled, and continued stirring.


	13. Chapter 13

_"_ _I can't even see the stars…"_

 _"_ _That's lightning's getting closer…"_

 _"_ _Wasn't supposed to be this bad…"_

 _"_ _The water looks like it's fit to buck us something good,"_

The forecasts seemed as if they were less and less good by the seconds. Charles sat in his wheelchair, eyes closed and mind open, listening. What he heard worried him immensely, especially since only Alex, closer than the others, had arrived by now. The young man stood by Charles's side, fidgeting impatiently. The lights flickered again. The ship tipped ominously to the side. His wheelchair started to roll. Charles grabbed the wheels, locking himself in place.

He frowned, listening.

 _"_ _What's that bugging the power source?"_

 _"_ _I don't understand…"_

 _"_ _General, our radios are down. We can't reach the mainland…"_

 _"_ _The waves are starting to swell…"_

 _"_ You okay Charles?" he blinked out his listening to look up at Alex, gazing at him with something akin to worry in his brows. Charles blinked his mind back to the present moment to look up. "Just checking proceedings," he told him. Alex cocked an eyebrow in an obvious sign of _"so, how is it?"_ And Charles shook his head. Lightning crashed against the swelling ocean outside. The lights flickered a few more times, as if trying to decide whether to stay alive, before beaming a lesser hue.

Charles did not have it in him to lie. "Not good, I'm afraid," he answered Alex's unasked question. The young man sighed and rubbed the back of his head in a sign of stress.

"Where are the others?" he asked the question that had plagued Charles's mind for the past ten minutes. "Maybe I should go look for them," Charles opened his mouth to object, but upon seeing how impatiently Alex tapped his foot, looking for an outlet for his nervous energy, decided that it would be good for him to be productive. He could keep a close eye on proceedings from here.

 _Besides,_ he thought, glancing at his legs with bitterness. _It is not as if I am going anywhere in my condition_. It was difficult enough just keeping his wheelchair in one place while the ship rocked in such a fashion. "Good idea," he said with a wave of his hand. "Find them and bring them back here," Alex's face morphed into relief that he could be of use.

"Got it, Charles," with that he vanished out of the sterile white room which had become Charles's tiny prison to find the others. Charles exhaled along breath as soon as he was sure Alex was gone, the persistent ache in his back returning full force as he relaxed in his chair.

He had been straining to hide it from the others, but he was afraid he could not hide the agony from himself. Added to that, his heart sill throbbed with despair and worry-for both of his wayward friends who had fallen to the lure of battle. He wondered where they were in the sea right now, if the storm were affecting them. Then again, if his suspicions were correct, then that storm fellow was the one causing this. But why? Had…Erik ordered it done? A final testament to his hatred of humans? Surely he would realize that if the ship went down; so would they?

Charles frowned as a horrifying idea niggled at the base of his brain, the idea that indeed Erik had realized and had ordered that the ship be sunk anyway. That perhaps his hatred had overcome his care for his friends and that goodness that Charles had seen inside of him.

 _No,_ he scolded himself before the idea could fully turn into a possibility. Erik may be misguided, but he was no monster. _I have to trust that goodness inside of him. I have too,_ he had little else to trust or believe in anymore.

"Charles?!" That was Michael, scaring Charles so thoroughly out of his thoughts that he actually jumped. The tall doctor stuck his head around the doorframe. His eyes were wide, hair disheveled. He looked a bit too pale for his normal pallor. Charles scowled.

"You don't look so good," he said, worried for the man who had saved his life. Michael shook his head and walked into the room.

"All this thrashing about," he explained a bit shakily. "Those waves are getting too big. I came to make sure you were alright," he said. Charles smiled, touched that Michael had thought about him.

"That was very considerate of you, Michael," he said, with a smile. "Thank you. I'm fine, merely waiting for the rest of my posse," he explained. Michael nodded. He sank to the ground in front of him, gently taking the heel of Charles's foot in his hand and tapping at his knee.

Charles, well-accustomed to these daily checks, could only stare fondly. He knew Michael was trying to keep his hopes up-trying to prove through action that it was possible for Charles to walk again. But the telepath knew, in some deep down knowing place, that it was not to be. He would never walk again. That was that.

Still, Michael's attempts to keep his spirits up were one of the reasons Charles had been able to survive these past few days sane. Michael reminded him so much of Joseph, his keen eyes and kind demeanor that Charles had found the name on the tip of his tongue several times by now.

The memory of his old friend and foster parent filled him with sadness, but also a feeling of… Self-awareness. As if he was meeting his true self for the first time, and knew neither what to make of himself or what to do with this new reflection, or even if it was his actual reflection at all.

Generally, Charles found Michael a comfort in a confusing world. "That's for the best," Michael muttered beneath his breath. "Some of the men are getting nervous, looking for answers," Michael glance dup, and his eyes flashed a warning. "They might start pointing fingers," he stated with perfect seriousness. Charles nodded, getting the drift.

"I know," he could sense it, after all. Michael stood, his deep eyes gazing down at Charles with something akin to nervousness.

"Charles… _Do_ you know what's causing this?" he asked. Charles sighed, really wishing that Michael of all people had not asked him that question. It would be much easier to lie to anyone but Michael, and right now Charles very much did not want to tell the truth. Still, this man was his friend. He deserved to know. Charles opened his mouth to tell Michael about his suspicions when he felt a spike of primal terror not his own.

Not two seconds later, the ship tilted again. Charles gasped as he felt himself suddenly falling backwards, rolling without his consent. His stomach dropped, his shout of alarm drowned out by the sound of metal creaking and lighting outside.

"Charles!" Michael reached out, grabbing Charles's outstretched hand. Unfortunately, the wheelchair was heavier than Michael, who weighed less than a cereal box probably. They both went tumbling backwards into the hall outside of the room. Charles bit down on his tongue-hard enough to make the blasted thing bleed- as the back of his wheelchair slammed into the wall.

This collision was swiftly followed by Michael landing haphazardly against his legs on the ground, twisted like a pretzel at his feet. "Well," the doctor mumbled, as the ship righted itself with aching slowness. Charles resisted the urge to vomit, his stomach doing flops and his back tormenting him. "At least the lights are still on," the lights went out without so much as a hesitant flicker. Charles sighed.

"You just had to say that, hmm?" he asked, as pitch blackness surrounded them.

"Sorry," Michael grumbled. A groping hand found Charles's knee, then his shoulder as Michael stood to his feet. Charles resisted the urge to cry out when the hands found his sore shoulder. To distract himself, he called out with his telepathy: _Is everyone alright?_

The answer was immediate. _Prof, I found Hank and Sean. We're on our way. Where's Moira…?_

 _Here,_ that sounded like Moira alright, winded and slightly scared. _The General is ordering everyone to…_ The thought was quickly interrupted on Moira's end by a shrill noise of doom. Charles heard it through the ears of the crewmen on the deck and below.

The sickening sound of metal being torn open and water rushing in like a dam suddenly split open. A wave so massive that it swept the deck clean, emptying it of men and plunging the few there into the ocean. Charles felt his heart pang as lives were inexorably and mercilessly _ended._

 _For the love of…!_ Moira shouted in their minds. _There's a hole in the ship. We're sinking!_ Instinctively Charles felt a surge of protective panic. He had to get his charges off this ship. Now.

 _New plan. Alex, Sean, Hank, Moira, get to a lifeboat!_ He ordered, hoping he did not sound half as scared as he felt. _I'll meet you on deck. Hurry!_ He did not receive a reply so much as he felt them all scramble to obey his bidding. They were all aware of how easily the lifeboats would be taken up by humans, and how unwilling the humans would be to share space with mutants. If they did not get there fast, they would surely drown.

"Michael…" he began, but it appeared as though his new friend was one step ahead of him. Taking matters into his own hands, Michael got behind Charles and fairly shoved his wheelchair down the hall towards safety.

"Let's go."

* * *

"Magneto?" He turned inquisitively to see Raven squinting at her screen in front of her, brow furrowed. "I don't know what I'm looking at, but it seems…Weird. Take a look," without waiting for his reply she backed away, allowing him free-access. Erik scowled and walked over, all too cognizant of how heavy the helmet felt on his head and how…. Quiet… His mind felt without Charles in it.

It was like those moments with Shaw, all over again. Erik was not overly eager to relive those moments. So in order to get rid of the image in his mind, he leaned over Raven's shoulder and peered at the image on the radar screen that she was staring at. Immediately, he saw the abnormality. On the screen was a giant swirling anomaly a few miles away. He scowled.

"It's probably nothing," Riptide tossed nonchalantly over his shoulder. "Maybe a school of fish congregating or something," Erik's eyes narrowed.

"Does that even happen in this part of the ocean?" Raven asked dubiously, placing her hands on her hip. Angel shrugged at her own station, staring at it with obvious boredom.

"Who cares? Is it in _our_ way?" She questioned. Erik squinted at the swirling epiphany. Suddenly, his gut clenched and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled as they always did when something was not right. His mind churned. According to this, that swirling thing was a few miles from here, beginning some feet below the water and getting bigger. He glanced over at Riptide. The other mutant was gazing back at him emotionlessly, slowly stirring his fingers on the dashboard as if…

Erik did not hesitate. Riptide made a strangled gargling noise as he suddenly found his throat clamped in Erik's left fist. The metal-bender slammed the other against the wall, growling irately.

"Erik!" Mystique cried out in shock, as the others took a step forward to intervene. Erik ignored them, his eyes burrowing into Riptides.

" _You,"_ he sneered beneath his breath. "Are you doing this?" He demanded. He felt a hand on his arm, pulling.

"Erik, stop it!"

Riptide glared at him, squirming in his firm grip. "I… don't know what…You're talking about," he gasped out. Erik squeezed his neck tighter to prevent him from moving.

"Raven," he snapped over his shoulder, momentarily forgetting to call her by her chosen name. "Get on the radio…Look for the American fleet's frequency," he commanded. Raven stared at him, befuddled.

"What? Why…?"

"Do it now!" Startled by his harsh tone Raven turned and hurriedly did as she was told. The others stood there, either in confusion or outrage. Erik ignored them all, his heart hammering in his ears. How could he have been so stupid? If Riptide was doing this, how long had he been at it? How big of a storm would it create? How much damage might it do to the…?

A staticky voice boomed over the speakers as Raven found the frequency. "This is the _U.S.S Carolina.._. All nearby ships… Caught in… Massive storm…Ship severely damaged… Evacuating all aboard, not enough lifeboats… Please… Anyone hear me…? Need help… _Please_ ," Raven's eyes had grown to double the size they usually were. She stared at him, mouth agape.

"That's… That's…" her hands clapped over her mouth, as if to keep the words at bay would be enough to choke the reality of their situation back. Angel and Azazel both looked up, now staring at Riptide with a mixture of surprise, confusion and with Azazel… Approval. Erik wanted to tear the heads off of them all.

He slammed Riptide into the wall behind him. "Stop it," he ordered. Riptide gave a casual half-shrug, his fingers stilling their movements.

"Won't matter," he wheezed. "It's already grown. Too late," he told Erik, with all the calmness of a murderer.

Erik clenched his teeth to so hard that he felt one crack. He gathered the pain, let it guide him towards the ultimate goal: anger. He shook his captive roughly.

"You fool," he hissed. "There are mutant brothers on that boat!" their faces flashed before his eyes, each one a poignant reminder of why he was doing this. Hank, Sean, Alex, Charles… Erik felt as if he were the one being strangled.

"You mean there are mutant _traitors_ on that boat!" Azazel cried out defiantly. Erik swiveled on his heel. Red flashed before his eyes, blurred by tears. He did not get a chance to let go of Riptide and choke Azazel before Raven took out her own anger. With perfect form that made a swell of pride grow in his chest for teaching it to her; she landed a swift punch to Azazel's right cheek. He stumbled backwards, eventually tripping to the ground. Satisfied, Erik glared down at him.

"My _brother_ is on that ship!" Raven cried; her voice a mixture of horror and heartbreak. Azazel looked up at her, rubbing his cheek angrily.

"Your brother _chose_ the humans over you!" he snapped back. Raven's eyes grew wide, appalled. Azazel continued. "They chose their side, and we chose ours! If they aren't here with us, then they're against us and deserve to die just as much as the humans do!" Erik's teeth hurt from being clenched so hard. Shaw's words echoed in his mind. _"It is better this way. He would have been a liability. People like him are no better than the humans. Weak. Stupid. Inferior,"_ he had trained his minions well.

Somehow, Riptide had managed to loosen Erik's hands with his nails. "This is the way it has to be, Magneto!" he cried hoarsely, eyes burning with hatred and determination. "This is what you signed up for. Who are you, a freedom fighter or the friend of weaklings?!" Erik growled. Raven took a step forward as if to slap him too.

"They are not weaklings!" she cried passionately.

Angel placed a gentle had on her shoulder. "Hey," she cooed. "I know this is hard, but Azazel and Riptide are right. This is war. Charles and the others…They would have been a threat to us later on. You have to decide, Raven, do you want to be free or exterminated? Are you Charles's baby sister," Angel shook her head, as if she already knew the answer. "Or Mystique?" Raven stared back at her, cat-like yellow eyes burning with indecision.

Erik felt his own heart at war with itself. His mind flashed back to a moment, years earlier, when Shaw had given him a choice between his mother… and his power. That same feeling of dread and desperation took him over now, only tempered by years of harsh experience. He was a boy no longer, and just like before; this was war. In war, sacrifices had to made. People were hurt, relationships tattered. That was how it was.

Did he want that, again? Did he want to be alone?

 _You'll have Raven,_ the girl who had mattered to Charles more than his own welfare. If he protected her, surely that was doing right by Charles, wasn't it? And the man _had_ said that if it came down to a fight between them, he would rather it be his role to die. Erik felt wetness in his eyes. He blinked it away.

"Erik?" He turned partially, and saw his own dire desperation in Raven's eyes. A tear dribbled down her cheek and he knew that she would do as he asked; even if it should break her heart. His mind sped. _I trained those boys. I handed Hank tools when he worked on our jet, I saw Sean fly for the first time, I taught Alex self-defense…I trained those boys. Those are_ _ **my**_ _boys,_ _and Charles…_

His own voice rung in his mind. _"We are brothers. You and I. We can change this world together,"_ and if he wanted; he could have his brothers drowned. For mutant-kind, he could have them all killed.

Was that a good enough reason?

It was the entire reason he had left in the first place. He couldn't go back now. Slowly, feeling as if his soul had fled his body and was now floating idly above, he released Riptide and took a step back. The other crumbled to one knee, gasping. Erik turned around.

Tears were leaking down Raven's face. She bowed her head as Angel wrapped an arm around her shoulders comfortingly. She gave Erik a resigned nod. Azazel grinned, admiration flashing in his eyes. "Good choice," Riptide wheezed from below, with a hoarse chuckle. Somehow, Erik did not feel as if the approval of his brotherhood meant much; not as much if it had been Charles's support.

As if the thought of him was enough, he heard… Something. A premonition that he would have thought was Charles if he were not wearing his helmet.

 _"_ _You're my friend, Erik. If it was a contest between my legs or your life, I'd make the same decision every time with no regrets,"_

 _"_ _Charles…I… You… Why?"_

 _"_ _Because Erik, your life is important to me. You're my friend,"_ Friend. His very first and very best friend was in trouble. Erik had never been able to say that before. Suddenly, everything in his being wanted to be able to say it again. He wanted it more than power, more than freedom, more even than to live.

He needed Charles, he had realized that when the man was shot, and again he came to the same conclusion. If that man died, he would take a large part of Erik with him. If that man died _because_ of Erik's decision, he would take Erik's soul with him, and all the goodness Charles had claimed was there.

 _"_ _I don't agree with what you're doing, Erik, but I trust the goodness within you. I trust it will lead you to where you belong,"_ He belonged with his friends now; that was where he wanted to be. Mutant-kind could wait.

"No," he stated softly. The others stared.

"What?" Angel inquired.

Erik shook his head. "No," he repeated, more vehemently this time. "We aren't leaving them," and before anyone could protest, he continued. "There is a man on that ship who taught me about serenity when I only knew anger. He understood me when I thought I was alone," his eyes blazed and his heart glowed with new determination. "And he jumped in front of a bullet for my life when I thought it ended long ago," _I won't abandon you Charles. Not like this_. He turned to Raven. She was smiling from ear to ear, eyes twinkling with gratitude

"Raven, turn us the _HELL_ around!" She jumped at the steering as if she were the drowning one. Azazel and Riptide groaned. Angel studied him, thoughtfully, but made no comment. Erik ignored them again, walking beside Raven.

 _Hang on, boys,_ he thought. _We're coming._


	14. Chapter 14

Help wasn't coming. Hank had just begun to accept that-the feeling in his gut, the one that meant imminent doom? That was making it rather hard not to accept- when the lights flickered out. He cried out as suddenly the long hallway that had been there seconds before fell into pitch darkness.

Sean and Alex came to an abrupt stop together. Hank skidded to a stop behind him, crying out as he ran into Sean's back. Hank did not remember falling to the ground, but he remembered the thud of his body falling on top of Sean and Alex as the three of them went tumbling to the ground.

"Ouch, dude," Sean groaned from beneath him as the ship tilted back into place. Hank agreed wholeheartedly. There was a cramp in his leg that he was relatively sure Sean had caused by landing on it.

"And-ugh," Alex sneezed from somewhere near his side. "Your fur is _sweaty._ Get off me, bozo!" He had forgotten about that. He flushed in embarrassment.

"Sorry," he mumbled, pushing himself upright. Sean stood up and gave a good-natured shrug that Hank could barely make out in the dark. Alex was grumbling beneath his breath, but nothing murderous.

"No problem. Man, the lights…" Hank looked up. _Those aren't coming back on any time soon_ ; and he could hear the water rushing through the bowels of the ship. It had broken open. The ship was on its way to sinking at any moment now. Hank gulped and placed a protective hand on Sean and Alex's shoulders. He had never had younger siblings before, but he knew one thing. Big brothers always looked out for little brothers.

"We have to change course," he said.

Sean inhaled sharply. "What about Charles?" he asked.

That was a very good question, but nevertheless, Hank was relatively sure that Charles would want him to see Sean and Alex safely away before anything else. Hank shook his head. "I'll go back for him. You two get up to the deck and snag us a lifeboat," because if he knew humans, they would not be considerate enough to save one for the likes of them.

 _I have a suggestion;_ that was Charles, in all of their minds. _How about all of you get up to the lifeboats, and I'll meet you there?_ Hank grinned.

Sean grabbed his hand and fairly yanked him along. "I like that plan better. Let's go," Hank nodded and the three of them took off down the halls, blindly.

"Where to, Beastie?" Alex asked before Hank could point out that he was the one with the super-hearing. Hank narrowed his range, searching for the sounds of water and of men. He heard men ahead.

"There's the crowd," he said, unnecessarily, for in the dark they could already hear them. The sounds of people, screaming and outraged cries of soldiers as they filed past, pushing and shoving their way to higher ground. The ship was beginning to tilt _backwards._ Hank heard the sound of rushing water, and was pretty sure he swallowed his own heart. It was getting closer. The hull of the ship had cracked open all the more and now… Now they were…

"Ah!" Sean screamed, in tandem with everyone else aboard as suddenly a giant wave crashed over the side of the ship, ramming into it with such force that it rocked in a steady ninety-degree angle before perilously righting itself.

Hank hissed as he was thrown against the opposite wall again, landing on his rear with a hard thump next to Sean. Alex landed at their feet, rolled into a protective ball. Hank hissed and snagged both arms, hauling them to their feet again. He had not let go of Sean's arm since they had begun running down the halls, and he did not intend to let go now. He shook his head, trying to clear the headache that was beginning to develop. He had no time for one of those.

"Sean! Hank! Alex! Are you guys there?!" _Now what?_ He wondered irately as soldiers moved past them like blurs of dark shadows, sneering insults even as they ran for their lives. A second later, a dark object stopped in front of them, panting. Hank sniffed.  
"Moira!" he cried, relieved to see her alive and well.

"The one and only," Alex said with some cheer. A feminine hand gripped Hank's arm hard enough to bruise.

"Are you three okay?" Moira asked, breathlessly. Hank could not see her, but he knew from her smell that she was damp with water. She had been to the deck already, probably grabbing people before they could be snatched away by the waves, and with that thought came the wandering question of: _how could she ever be our enemy?_ Then, just as quickly, Moira added: "Where's Charles at?" To which Hank shrugged.

"He said he would meet us up there!" Sean yelled over the sounds of panic and fear. "Do you know how to get to the deck any faster?" He asked what Hank had been wondering since Moira arrived. If they just followed the swell of panicked and fearful men they might not make it o the deck alive anyway.

"No, but I know we have to get out of here fast," Moira squinted in the dark at the men. "At this rate, they'll never get out and neither will we!" She shouted. Hank frowned, his mind racing. He could not help but agree, but if there was no other way onto the deck and everyone down here would not make it…

"We have to do something," he growled.

"ASAP preferably," Sean gulped, as Hank felt cold seep between his toes. He shivered. "Does anyone else feel that?" He did. It was water, slowly building at their ankles. The coldness of it sent shivers down Hank's spine. They were sinking faster than he had imagined. If the water kept rising at this rate, he predicted that this entire hallway would be under in about five minutes. Not even half of them men would be on deck before that happened and they certainly wouldn't.

"It's official," Sean moaned. "Were going to die," Alex slapped him briefly upside the head.

"Shut up, man, we aren't going to die," he informed him sternly. Then, Alex turned to him with all the firmness of a seasoned soldier. "Hank? C'mon buddy, you're the crazy genius. Think up something!" he ordered. Hank turned to him as alarm sent another bout of shivers up his spine.

"Me?" He demanded. "What am I supposed to do?"

Alex could have been throwing up his hands or he could have seen the shadow of another person behind him, it was hard to tell in the dark. What Hank did know was that Alex definitely rolled his eyes at him. "I don't know, build something!" He cried.

Now Hank rolled his eyes. "Like what? What machine will keep us afloat and where am I supposed to get something with enough power to be of use…" The sentence fizzled into nonexistence as he realized that indeed he could not just burst through, but someone else could. "Damn it!" he suddenly cried, this being the best substitute for eureka he could think up under the circumstances.

"Hank?" Moira asked, sounding surprised at his profanity.

Hank was too overjoyed to be apologetic. "We're _mutants_!" he cried happily.

There was a confused silence before Sean sighed. "Hank's lost it," he mumbled.

Hank turned to Alex and gripped his shoulder in a tight grip. "Alex, you have to blow a hole in the ship!" he cried. Alex inhaled sharply.

"Are you crazy? There's already one in the…!" Hank interrupted exasperatedly. Why was it so hard just for people to think?

"Not one going down, you idiot!' he cried. "One going _up_. You can blow us a hole right to the deck!" he pointed out.

"There are people on the deck, Hank," Moira pointed out, bursting his bubble. "What if we hit one of them? What if a wave crashes over the deck again and sweeps us all away?" Hank shook his head.

"We have no choice," he rebutted. There was a tense silence in which those words were reviewed and echoed throughout the passageway. The water was rising. These men needed some way to get out, and so did they. Indeed, Hank had never hated being right so much as he did then. At length, Moira sighed.

"Alex?" Hank did not see the nod in the dark, but he did hear the way Alex quietly told them to step back, as troubled as he had been the day he had shown them his powers, ashamed and afraid that he might hurt someone. Hank hated that he was forced into the same situation now. He hated that Alex had any reason to be afraid at all, that even if society ever did accept people like them, mutants would never be free of the ultimate fear. Fear of themselves.

No sooner had they backed away that Alex looked up, and in the darkness Hank saw his lips mouth two words to anyone who might get hurt above "I'm sorry," and then, he blasted. The red beam that suddenly illuminated the air also heated the water. Hank yelped as suddenly his feet felt like they were being boiled in water. He heard Moira and Sean do the same, both of them jumping almost out of their skins.

"Get down!" Hank snatched both sets of arms, lamming Moira and Sean against the wall and turning his back to the tons of metal that suddenly rained from the sky. He shielded them; eyes closed and body tensed, waiting for a hit that never came. The metal from the layers of ship above came falling down, splashing the scalding water into faces and unto arms. Screams of pain and fright rang out through the ship; cries that Hank knew would haunt Alex's nightmares for days to come.

After a few minutes, he opened his eyes. Alex was standing where he had been earlier, face upturned to the giant hole that stood as testimony to his power. A flash of lightning illuminated a face sad and resigned to a life of being a very, very, dangerous man. Sean wiggled his way from behind the safety of Hank's arms.

"My turn," he mumbled, and racing past Alex with a firm slap on his back, he extended his wings and screamed. Hank covered his ears as the sound waves carried Sean higher and higher, past the few dozen feet to the deck.

Alex blinked out of his pity-party to stare at him. "Where's he going?" he asked. Hank shrugged and glanced at Moira. She was trying to calm down the disgruntled soldiers that had begun to advance towards them, confused and wary.

"To get help?" he suggested.

Alex snorted and crossed his arms. "Would have been a _great help_ to let us know before he just took off. He's worse than a five-year-old," Hank could not help but chuckle as he surveyed Alex's handiwork. That hole was huge, and above he could see hear the moaning wind and see the bubbling cauldron that had become the sky. Lightning streaked a thin line of white cross it, and the waves stirred the boat again. Hank wondered why he had not gotten sea-sick yet with all this moving. Usually, he _was_ sea sick. _It must be the stress,_ he thought dryly. _Best cure for any kind of sickness: life-threatening situations._

"Hey!" That was Sean again, gazing over the hole. His eyes were sparkling in the dire circumstances. He was probably having a ball. "I'll have you know I'm the most mature person you blokes will ever know!" Hank dove out of the way just as a heavy coiling rope was thrown down, added by two and three more. The men cried out in joy as they tugged at the secure anchors, recognizing them as the things needed to escape the ship alive. The water was up to their waists by now.

"Well done, boys!" Moira called delightedly; as Alex laughed and pulled at the rope to make sure it was steady. He jumped on it and began climbing up. Hank stepped out of the way, growling at the man who tried to shove Moira aside. She gave him a sisterly pat on the cheek, with a gentle admonishment not to scare the poor Neanderthals, and began to climb after Alex. Hank chuckled and took hold the rope after her. It did not take long for them to manage their way onto the deck.

Up on deck was a familiar face. Charles looked like a soaked English rat in a wheelchair. His clothes were sticking to a heaving chest and his head drenched in dripping curls but his sapphire eyes were glowing with relief and pride when he saw them, and a great smile had stretched his face.

Hank smiled. "Did you do this?" Charles inquired of Alex as Dr. Fisherman helped haul Moira to safety. He nodded, a bit warily as if he suspected Charles might be angry with him. Instead, the professor extended a hand. Alex stared at it for a brief second before letting out a slightly hysterical laugh and grabbing the offered hand at Charles's elbow.

"You've saved many lives today with your gift, Alex!" Charles shouted over the sound of the wind and the pattering of rain. "I'm proud of you!" Alex smiled and gave a short nod of understanding and thanks. Charles gazed around at the rest of them with fatherly affection in his eyes. "Indeed, I'm proud of all of you! You've proved to be very resourceful!" He continued, almost thoughtfully, as if he were trying to deduce all the trouble the four of them could get up too with their resourcefulness.

"We aren't out of the woods yet," Moira reminded them, pointing to the general mass of men scrambling about deck, jumping and stumbling into the lifeboats hanging precariously over the side before another wave swell could hit. The ship gave a long creaking moan and Hank heard several small snaps come from inside. He did not know what they were, but he knew those snaps were not good.

"She's right!" Dr. Fisherman cried from Charles's elbow. He looked like a thin, long wet rat. "Our boat is on the other side! We must hurry before it's snatched!" Right then, Hank exchanged a look with Charles before grabbing Sean and Alex's elbows. Moira got behind Charles's wheelchair and without words; they followed Michael across the crowded and slippery deck of their dying ship.

Lightning struck the water, creating a giant explosion of scalding rain to add o the already cold droplets striking his back. Alex and Sean hissed as it struck their vulnerable skin like acid. Charles flinched. Moira tensed. Hank had never been so grateful to have a protective layer of thick fur. He glanced at the ocean around them, where the waves had begun to slosh against the ship like it was a child's toy, foaming like a rabid dog.

 _It wants blood_ , the thought was crazy, unscientific. Hank could not make himself disbelieve it. _If we go under there,_ he glanced at the churning sea. Just looking at it made his own stomach churn. W _e're done for._ Charles seemed to have the same idea, because he kept glancing over his shoulder at them as if he suspected they might be swept away at any moment now beneath the unreliable surface of their ship.

Finally, Moira skidded to a stop, gasping. Water dripped from around her lips and eyelashes. Her eyes were wide in the dark, making her look like a fish that had been flung from water and now lay flopping and breathless on the beach. Michael pointed at a small lifeboat that had gotten tangled in the ropes meant to keep it at the ship's side, hanging limply. It had probably been deemed to unsafe by the humans, which was the reason it was abandoned. Hank gulped. The small thing looked as if any weight inside of it would make them all plummet to the foaming ocean's jaws, and how were they supposed to get Charles's wheelchair in there?

The telepath seemed to agree. He looked up at Moira, and they had a silent conversation, either through minds or eyes Hank could not tell. Finally, Charles turned to Sean. "You should go first," he told him. "If it does collapse, then you can fly out of there," Sean nodded and looked over the side of the ship, at the lifeboat dangling by a few unsteady ropes a few feet below, and the waves thundering and hungry even lower than that.

Sean smirked, like Hank imagined Peter Pan might have, and catapulted over the side of the ship with a whoop. The others all raced to the edge of the railing, peering over. Sean had landed safely inside of the boat. He stood still, eyes locked on the ground beneath him as the lifeboat swayed. After a long second, he looked up and grinned, waving a thumbs up. "We're good to…"

"Sean, get _down_!" The horrified scream came from Moira, causing Hank to swivel around in time to scream as a giant wall of wetness and bluish froth came hurtling towards them from the other side of the boat.

He only had time to grab Alex and Moira before he heard Charles yell "Hang unto me!" and Alex grabbed Charles's wheelchair as they were swept against the railing with a loud clang. Water rushed over Hank's head, sucking at his fur and trying to steal the breath from his lungs. He ducked his head away instinctively, fighting down panic. The ocean swept past him, soaking his entire body.

After an eternity, he felt cold and electrified air hit his face and he inhaled deeply. The air had never tasted sweeter. He gasped, eyes swiveling to take in Charles, Moira, Alex and Dr. Fisherman, curled against the railing as they gasped for breaths, knuckles white with how tightly they held unto the only metal still standing.

Charles nearly fell over into the water when he dove at the railing, eyes scanning the lifeboat below. "Sean?!" He bellowed desperately. Hank's heart nearly stopped when only the wind replied. Then- a choking noise.

"I'm okay!" Sean called back up. Charles's shoulders relaxed an inch, and Hank saw him close his eyes in relief. He seemed to have aged ten years in that frightful moment of unknowing, and Hank became conscious for perhaps the first time, just how _very much_ Charles cared for them. One would think he had almost lost a brother by the stress lining his face when that wave had broken over. He truly did care for them, perhaps just as much as he had for Raven and in a shorter amount of time. Hank felt a lump in his throat as the vow he had given Charles renewed itself in his heart.

 _I will give you back your legs, Charles. If it's the last thing I do._

The telepath suddenly looked up, as if someone had called his name. His eyes met Hank's, and the two of them exchanged a small smile. Hank did not know how much of that Charles had heard, but whatever it was, it was enough to guarantee that Charles's eyes glitter with gratitude- and maybe something like hope.

* * *

Getting into the boat was easier than Charles had expected it to be. For him, at any rate.

He was not unhappy to leave the confines of his wheelchair. Sitting in wetness, he had learned for the past ten minutes, was as uncomfortable as sitting on thorns, and he had a brief recollection that perhaps this was why eventually humans had to learn to leave the diaper. If he had to spend his entire life like this, then he might very well go mad.

He felt half mad already.

Moira had been the second one to jump into the boat after Sean, her being eh least heaviest of them all. Then the two of them had scrambled to unknot and untangle the ropes binding their boat as it swayed ominously, quite like a pendulum in a clock might above the crashing waves. "We have to lower it gradually," Hank told Alex as the other mutants prepared to jump.

"A lever/pulley system?" Michael suggested thoughtfully. Hank nodded, his brow scrunched.

"It will take all of us to control it, more than likely," he said. "If we just let the boat drop into the water, we'll be pulled under, and with the ship sinking, the suction would drown us for sure, good swimmers or not," he glanced at the deck, now half submerged in water. The other life boats had either been lowered into the water or were still struggling too in vain. Already five of them had capsized, their sailors flailing and screaming in the Atlantic.

Charles struggled to block out the panic and fear he felt emanating from them. It took every fiber of his being not to jump into the water after them- as he had done with Erik. The only difference between the two situations was that now he was responsible for more than just himself and besides, he couldn't swim even if he wanted too.

"Sean, Moira! Try to wrap four ropes around the boat. Make a lever/pulley system!" Hank called.

"A what?" Sean demanded, confusedly. Moira jumped to action though.

"I'll show him!" She assured Hank.

The blue man nodded and turned to Alex. "Go," he told him. "I'll get Charles, and come after you," Alex nodded and jumped unto the railing, and down. Charles held his breath until he heard a slight thump that he knew meant Alex had landed safely inside of the boat. Hank turned around, his deep eyes soft. Charles smiled at him, tiredly. He had heard Hank's passionate vow, and he was still grateful for it.

"Ready, professor?" Hank asked, cringing when another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky. Charles nodded, though his pride balked when Hank wrapped arms beneath his knees and around his back, carrying him like one would a small and delicate child. "What about you?" Hank asked Michael, who waved him off.

"Don't worry, I'll jump as soon as you two are safe," Charles frowned worriedly.

"Hurry," he told his friend, glancing at the remaining deck left. "We only have so long," Michael nodded with a warm smile. Charles glanced at Hank and nodded, nervously. Hank gave a small half-shrug that obviously meant 'we have no other choice,' before jumping over. Charles felt his stomach dive as they went sailing in a swift and completely vertical _drop._

Hank landed with a slight grunt. The lifeboat creaked and swayed, making the others gasp and hiss as they hung unto the ropes that they had compiled into a lever pulley system from the ship. Alex and Sean held unto the rope attached to the front of the lifeboat, both of them straining even more now that Hank was aboard.

Moira was in the corner to Charles's right and the one in the middle was left hanging open, so far the three of them balancing the lifeboat in mid-air, slowly easing the lifeboat down. Hank set Charles down gently at the side of the boat before jumping at the spare rope to his left, gripping it tightly. The boat stopped swinging.

Charles looked up. "Michael!" He shouted. "Come!" Michael nodded and did as he said, hopping from the top of the railing towards their small escape capsule.

Luck, however, was not on their side.

Just as Michael jumped, Sean lost his rip on the rope. Alex gasped as suddenly half of the boats weight was transferred to him. He cried out as the rope started to slip between his fingers. The lifeboat took a steep dip towards the unforgiving waters, tilting at an irregular angle that made Charles slightly sick.

And also prevented Michael from landing where he had meant. Instead the doctor fell right past the lifeboats; eyes wide and mouth open in silent scream. "Michael!" Charles-again- did not remember moving, but suddenly he had hauled his torso up so that the edge of the boat dug into his stomach and managed to snag Michael's large hand in his own, the other man dangling just about three feet from the frothing waves.

Hank's words echoed in Charles's mind. _"If we just let the boat drop into the water, we'll be pulled under, and with the ship sinking, the suction would drown us for sure, good swimmers or not,"_ if he let go of Michael's hand, he would die.

"Wow!" Moira cried as Alex and Sean grabbed hold of the rope again, before it could slip away and they all dangled out like Michael.

"Quick! Moira, lower your side and I'll lower mine! We'll get her balanced and then lower ourselves down!" Hank yelled.

"Roger that Captain Beast!" Sean yelled as the five of them got to it. Charles smiled at Michael's uneasy face, trying to look reassuring when his own heart was racing.

"Hello there," was all he could think to say, being the intelligent college graduate that he was. _Perhaps Erik is right_ , he thought. _Mayhap I am an idiot_. But Michael chuckled softly.

"Hi Charles," he replied, very cheerfully for a man who had nearly fallen to his death a moment ago. "Could you pull me up now?" Charles nodded and grabbed unto Michael's other hand with his left.

"Alright, Michael, I'm going to pull you up on the count of three," goodness knew he was not strong enough to pull him up right now, and certainly not five minutes from now. His body was still recovering. Charles was frankly surprised he was able to keep holding unto Michael _at all._ "One… Two…"

"HELP ME!" Charles gasped as suddenly a new presence- filled with so much feral terror and unthinking panic that it barely resembled a human being's- suddenly erupted from the water like a shark collecting dangling prey. As if he were a raving lunatic, the sailor fairly flew out of the water and latched onto Michael's leg, eyes wide with dread.

"Please!" The man wailed, trying to scramble up Michael's leg to avoid being taken by the ocean. "Don't let me drown!" Michael hissed through clenched teeth. Charles imagined the man's nails were digging into his leg.

"Damn you, man! Let me go!" Michael yelled.

"Hey!" Hank bellowed. Charles could feel their sudden alarm as well. The extra weight was making it harder to hold the boat steady. Charles growled deep in his throat. "What's going on down there?" he cried.

"We have a visitor who doesn't fancy drowning!" Charles replied over his shoulder, as he strained to pull Michael and this mysterious lunatic aboard.

"Well, he can join the club!" Sean shouted furiously, him and Alex desperately hanging onto their rope.

"We can't hold on!" Alex grunted, fearfully.

"Get him off, Charles!" Moira ordered.

Charles desperately tugged at Michael's hand, but it was futile. He couldn't haul both him and the new man up, not when he was so weak, couldn't use his legs for leverage and they were all wet. Not to mention the boat was still unbalanced. Gravity was working against them.

 _But if I let them go…_ The man's frantic cries for help wrung his heart. He couldn't just let them die.

 _"_ _Charles!"_ There was a frenzied entreaty in that voice. He glanced at Moira, and in her eyes saw what she wanted. "You have to let them go!" She shouted. Charles felt tears sting his eyes.

 _I can't,_ he sent to her desperately. _They'll drown._ Mora's eyes were hard, uncompromising, but also apologetic. She knew what a toll killing them would have on him. She knew how much it would tear at him.

"If you don't, we'll _all_ drown!" She reminded him.

"Charles," that was Michael, speaking quietly, over the panicked man's screaming. Charles looked down and met eyes that had seen dozens of recoveries and also dozens of deaths.

And he had accepted his own, honorably.

"It's alright," Michaels hand loosened. Charles tightened his grip. "Let me go, Charles."

 _No._

He would never forgive himself. It occurred to Charles that he could use his telepathy to get rid of the second man; he could still try and save Michael. _But could I do that either?_ His heart ached as more shouts were added to Moira and Michaels, commanding- _begging_ -him to let go.

To save them all at the cost of his soul, and then one voice saying the opposite, animalistic in his frenzy to live, a frenzy that Charles himself had felt before. He knew what it was to cling unto life-to _will_ survival even if it meant another may not breathe again. He had grown up with an abusive father, after all.

He knew that desperation but he also knew himself and he knew that this world was cruel. He had people who depended on him. A race that would need him. A new family to protect.

He needed to live.

Even if others should die.

Which is why he let go, with a shuddering breath of remorse. However, he had once again underestimated the cunning of the fates, and as such he gasped when he felt the sturdiness of solid boat suddenly vanish. He had predicted that Michael and the sailor would fall to their deaths…But he had not been prepared for their momentum-and a sudden jostle of the boat- to carry him with them.

He fell.


	15. Chapter 15

Moira's eyes had been locked on Charles when it happened. She had seen the uncertainty in his eyes, the angst of his decision and been sorry that it had to have been her to demand it of him. She knew that he would feel the deaths of the men below, and allow himself no succor from the guilt he would carry on the inside.

For that reason, she had kept her eyes on him, hoping to impart any strength and support. She, too, knew what it was to have to allow bad things to happen in order for a better outcome. Being a CIA agent was not as easy as some would like to believe, and certainly not as adventurous and noble as her father had always made it out to be when she was growing up.

She had been forced to make a lot of tough calls.

But none of those decisions had been as tough as remaining helplessly motionless when suddenly Charles flipped over the side of the boat with a mere shout of alarm that was whipped away by the turbulent wind.

Moira's eyes widened as her own plaintive scream of dismay cut through the air. " _Charles!"_ The boys stopped what they were doing, all eyes swiveling to where the professor had been a moment before, but now the spot was empty. Moira did not have to look at the boys to know that they paled as the realization of what had just happened occurred to them.

As if the world wanted to cement it into their realities, though, three splashes cut short the cries of alarm from the men, and Moira did not hear any flailing of limbs. They had gone under, and the suction would insure that they did not come back up easily.

All of this happened in the time span of ten seconds. On the tenth second, she looked up and locked eyes with Hank. She saw her own horror reflected there. Then, the two of them looked over to where Alex and Sean were, both mouths hanging open and eyes wide.

Moira knew what was about to happen before it did, and she jumped forward in time with Hank. The lifeboat plummeted steeply as Alex and Sean simultaneously released their ropes and lunged towards the side of the lifeboat where Charles had been, intending to dive in after him. She grabbed Sean around the waist, feeling his lower ribs rub against her knuckles as she bore her entire body weight into pulling him back from the edge.

Hank seized Alex in the same way, plucking him from the edge of death as their small escape pod suddenly smacked into the surface of the water and was carried further from their sinking boat by the swell of wave that had caught them. Moira closed her eyes, holding Sean tightly to her chest as the momentum slammed them against the front of the lifeboat.

Sean's hoarse howl of grief cut through her heart. "Professor! Professor!" he shouted into the wind, struggling once they had stilled considerably. He jammed elbows into her sides and stomach, gentler than she was sure he could have, and flailed like an eel to escape her grip. Tears ran down her face as she hugged him tightly to her, like a mother would her child.

Alex was doing likewise in Hank's grip, scratching at his arms and trying to bite him as he screamed just as loudly "Charles! _Charles!_ Let me go, Hank! We have to help him!" He yelled furiously. Hank growled deep in his throat. Moira got a glimpse of tears in his eyes.

"Alex, he's gone," Hank growled.

"What? Are you _crazy_? We can still save him!" Sean yelled breathlessly. Hank shook his head, just missing an elbow to the face.

"He's just a coward!" Alex roared, his eyes burning with fury. "He doesn't want to save Charles because he's afraid!" Moira looked away to the thrashing ocean as Hank's eyes grew wide and his sharp fangs made an appearance.

She cringed when he took Alex's shirt into his hands and suddenly _crushed_ him against the lifeboats floor, straddling the boy none-too-gently. Sean cringed as well, wisely deciding to stay still. Alex was breathing hard, fingers digging into Hank's wrists and teeth set in a clear sign of defiance.

Hank loomed over him, snorting like an animal. His eyes were glowing with rage. " _Calm down_ ," he growled, merely. Alex glanced overboard, his body stilling.

"But…But Charles," he stammered.

"Is _gone_ ," Hank finished, as a tear ran down his face. Alex looked up at him, and the pure anguish in his eyes would have made a stranger think that they had known Charles their entire lives. Alex's bottom lip trembled, and he closed his eyes as if he couldn't bear to look at Hank anymore.

Sean let out a muffled sob against her chest and Moira hugged him tighter, lying her chin on a bed of wet curls. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, heart breaking. "I'm so sorry," Alex opened his eyes then, and something in them made Hank nod and sit up. Alex sat beside him, arms wrapped around his knees. He looked so much like a vulnerable child that Moira let out a sob of her own.

 _Oh, Charles,_ she thought. Hank put a hand on Alex's trembling shoulder and gazed at them all, eyes grave. "I'm sorry," he told them softly, and there were no other words that could describe the situation at hand, the awful mocking of fate.

The cruelty of the world, whether ruled by humans or mutants. They stayed like that, buoyed by the swelling waves, struck on all sides by chilling rain and deafened by the lightning striking and the sounds of men yelling, the creak of the ship sinking further and further for an what felt like an eternity but what was actually about ten seconds.

All of a sudden, the eternity ended when Hank sat up straighter, a sudden light in his eyes. "Did you hear that?" He asked. Moira looked up, brought from her haze of grief. She went silent, listening. She heard nothing but wind, rain and the occasional shout from the soldiers remaining.

"Hear what?" She asked through a throat that ached with tears. Hank stood, slowly, the added weight making the boat sink a good two inches in the water. Hank sniffed loudly as Alex and Sean protested.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Alex demanded, gripping the sides of the lifeboat. Hank ignored them, his eyes set on a distant thing, squinting in the rain.

"Is that…?" he mumbled. Moira watched him carefully, wondering if she should be afraid. She suddenly very much wished that she had her gun on her.

"What is it, Hank?" She asked. Then, she sat up straighter as an impossible but glorious thought occurred to her. "Is it Charles?" She was not sure how he would have been able to pull himself back up to the surface, but she did know that he had accomplished the highly unlikely before. Why not the impossible now? Hank waved his hand at her irritably.

"No!" he cried _. "Listen,"_ she did and after a second in which she could only hear the wind, the wind become a voice.

A familiar voice.

Sean and Alex heard it too, and their eyes widened as they scrambled to their knees. "Is that…?" Alex mumbled.

"It can't be," Sean squinted into the rain, but it came again. Raven's voice, like an angel in the night, calling.

"Hank! Sean! Alex! Charles!" And then another one, added to it.

"Charles! Boys! Moira!" Erik. Moira had never been so glad to hear them.

"Here!" the word burst out of her like it had been waiting on the tip of her tongue all along, her heart leaping. "We're here!" Hank waved his hands frantically, emitting sharp and echoing roars.

Alex and Sean took up the call, waving and yelling frantically until something large and hulking-the head of a whale-came into sight. Moira exhaled deeply as she recognized the top of a submarine, still half submerged in the water. Through the rain, she could see Raven, her blue skin rippling like a fish's scales; and Erik, the helmet atop his head like a lighthouse beacon.

Both of them smiled when they saw them. Erik pointed and the submarine rushed forward, bearing the two towards their small dingy. Raven's eyes searched them all as they approached, detailing any injuries until…

"Where's Charles?" Erik seemed to want to know the same thing. His own eyes searched the boat acutely as if he suspected that Charles was hiding behind someone. Moira's heart stopped, and she despaired. Sean bowed his head. Alex gulped. Hank gazed at them sadly.

"Raven… He's… You see…" Hank's voice faltered so much that he just looked at the spot where Charles had gone under, sadly. The gesture said everything. Raven's eyes widened when she followed to where his eyes had gone. Her mouth dropped open. Erik inhaled sharply, and again, surprised Moira out of her wits. Without speaking, the metal-bender snatched the helmet from his head, stuffed it into Raven's hands and dove into the thrashing waves as gracefully as a seal.

"Erik!" Hank cried, horrified, but he was already gone beneath the waves.

* * *

It occurred to Erik that he would probably drown, but that thought was burst into flames as soon as it had come, put to rest by the knowledge that Charles was beneath the merciless waves, and he was paralyzed from the waist down. There was no way that he could swim.

Besides, Erik remembered a night quite like this one, where he had been in the same danger as Charles, and the other man ad not cared about the consequences of what he was doing, but rather had done it anyway

That was Charles's way; and now Erik's as well.

Still, when the water hit his face, he had to resist the urge to gasp from the cold of it. He opened his eyes, feeling them burn. The water below was shrouded in blackness and murky with floating debris from the ship. He could not see more than two or five inches ahead of him, at that. How was he supposed to find Charles, in all this mess?

 _The same way that he found you._

For the first time, Erik envied another mutant their powers. The power of telepathy would come in handy right about now. He shook his head with difficulty. Things were different under water. He didn't have the luxury of doubting or worrying. Charles needed him, and Erik could only hold his breath for so long.

So he did the only thing that he could do. He hoped with all his might that this would work-and called out for Charles. Propelling himself deeper into the murky waters, he screamed the name over and over in his head, willing every shrapnel of his soul to repeat the call so that Charles's ultra-sensitive mind might pick it up.

 _Please Charles,_ he thought reverently. _Answer me. I'm here, If only you'll answer me._

Erik was unsure whether this would work if Charles were already unconscious, which was most likely the case.

 _I won't leave you,_ he thought with a determined ire. _So if you want me to live, you'll have to answer. You'll have to!_ Erik's lungs started to burn, and he was far beneath the surface. He might very well drown if he did not get up to air soon. However, he had not been bluffing. If Charles did not answer, then Erik wasn't going anywhere. He would keep looking-die down here if he had too.

He had come back for Charles; and he wasn't going back into this cruel, unforgiving world without him.

 _Do you hear that, you bloody idiot?_ He thought as his head started to become light and his vision blurred. The murky waters suddenly seemed even murkier. _Answer me_ _Charles or else we'll both die down here!_ Adrenaline kicked in.

Erik had to fight down his survival instincts to head back to the surface; had to wrestle away the panic that had begun to encase him like an air bubble. Oh, air, sweet air. He needed air…

No, he needed Charles. Erik kept swimming, going deeper and deeper. Now his entire body was on fire with suffocation. He kept going down, further and further… Dots swam before his eyes. _Charles!_

Nothing. The water was silent, empty, dark. Like his childhood, like most of his life The thought of returning to that silence, of forever staying here in this empty darkness filled him with a dread that overpowered the adrenaline. Only Charles had been brave-or perhaps stupid-enough to challenge him to stand in the light again.

 _Charles, where are you?!_

Granted, he had not done a very good job once there, but at least he had gotten a glimpse of light and realized, _finally,_ after so many years….

That he was not alone.

 _CHARLES, ANSWER ME!_ His legs stopped working, his muscles seizing and cramping. Erik stopped, floating idly in the deep waters. He willed himself to stay awake, that last shout having taken most of his energy. Erik allowed himself to just sit there then, surrounded by darkness, and if it were possible he might have sobbed aloud, for Charles would never ignore him. So he must be…

These melancholy thoughts were interrupted by a break in the silence. It was a whisper, a mere brush against his mind as delicate and precise as an artists' tender sweep. His name. _Erik,_ in an all-too familiar voice. _Erik, save yourself._

Of course he would say that.

 _Where are you?_ Erik demanded, brought to life by that soothing voice.

A second of silence. Then, _A bit to your left, further down. We're being dragged by the ship's suction. Erik, I don't think…_

 _Do you have any metal on you?_

The voice was getting weaker, sounding as if it were fading. Where to, Erik knew all too well _. It's no use, Erik. Just go._

 _Not bloody likely, Xavier._

 _Erik…_

 _I'm here to help you. Just hold on._ Then, because he felt like he needed to say it. _You're not alone, Charles._

He did not have to see Charles to know that he smiled. The image of that smile caused an ember of purpose to ignite in his heart. Erik forced his body to go down, to his left, and he smiled himself when he saw Charles's hair floating like seaweed in the gloom. Their eyes met. Charles's were dull. He was near death.

 _Erik…_ He had to hurry. Charles didn't sound so good. _Michael…_ Leave it to Charles Xavier to want to save the human. Erik was half tempted to leave them both just for that. That human was lucky he had saved Charles's life or else Erik would have had nothing to do with him. As it was, he called the metal watch on Michael's hand and grabbed Charles by the arm, pulling.

* * *

It took an eternity-in which Raven called herself by several names, none of them very nice- and stayed close to Hank's side. He would not let her touch him; she understood why, but he did not leave her alone in this dark moment. He stood close by, their bodies so close she could feel his heat and she took comfort from it.

Sean, Alex, Moira and Hank had all crammed unto the top of the submarine, their small lifeboat floating idly nearby. All eyes searched the water frantically, looking for any sign of life. Hank had already explained that it was unlikely that Charles was still alive even if Erik did manage to find him and bring him to the surface.

The statistics weren't good, he had explained.

Despite those chances, none of them dared go inside of the submarine until they absolutely _knew._ _If they don't come up,_ she glanced at the submarine. Angel had joined them a second ago. She stood between Alex and Sean, her wings flittering every once in awhile as if she wanted to go searching herself. _Riptide will pay or this._

And she would make sure he suffered the same fate as he had condemned her brothers to die. The water was right here after all. The waves had calmed, and now only little laps of waves hit the side of the submarine, soaking their shoes, but otherwise it was calm again, with only tiny droplets of rain smacking them every few minutes. The thunderclouds had beat a graceful retreat, growling menacingly. Things were calming down.

So why did it feel as if her heart would jump out of her chest?

 _Come on Erik,_ just one more miracle. _One_ , she prayed frantically. After a moment of silence, Angel broke it.

"Should I fly over and see if I can find anything?" she asked.

"Like what?" Alex sounded tired, defeated. Angel shrugged, anxiously.

" _Anything._ It beats sitting here waiting for them to reappear like…" Angel's sarcastic remark born of fear was interrupted by none other than Erik Lenshnerr. Raven held her breath as suddenly the older man burst through the surface of the water as if it were glass, breaking the calm with his gasping breaths.

"Erik!" Moira screamed. He looked up, eyes wide. "Is he…?" Moira's voice broke.

Erik didn't answer. Instead, he swam towards the lifeboat, sloppily. Raven imagined his arms were burning. She studied his face; looking for any signs of grief or sadness, but found none; just a certain furious triumph in his eyes as he stopped before the lifeboat and hung onto the side. Alex and Sean had already jumped in, and outstretched hands to help. Erik glanced at them, then smiled. "You might want to get the professor first," he turned around and Raven saw a wet mop of chocolate hair set above dull sapphire eyes.

But they were open, and Charles was gasping and coughing up seawater, clinging to Erik's back weakly. Alex and Sean grabbed him under the arms with exclamations of joy. They hauled him aboard with animated roughness. Charles flopped weakly into the boat, his legs dragging behind him like lifeless sticks. He promptly vomited seawater. "Charles!" Moira gasped, grinning. He looked up, and despite the dullness in his eyes, he was grinning.

"Hello there… My friends. Are you… Alright then?" he coughed hoarsely past heaving breaths. Before anyone could answer however, Erik climbed into the boat, helped by Alex. Behind him, Dr. Fisherman scrambled after, both of them coughing and gasping for breath.

"You idiot, Charles!" Erik was roaring angrily once he had gotten his breath. "You thrice-cursed, damned, hypocritical idiot!" He collapsed on his knees next to Charles. Raven's brother was on his back, arms outstretched like an angel and hair plastered to his face while he breathed deeply. He only smiled at Erik's insults.

"Do you have death wish? 'Save yourself, Erik' 'Save Michael, Erik' what the hell?! I'm tired of you saving everyone else, Xavier! You're a pain in the ass! You can't even swim!" Erik raged, waving a hand at Charles's immobile legs. "Stop being a bloody hero because you're _not_! You're an IDIOT!" He roared with his final breath before he collapsed on his stomach next to Charles, gasping for breath. Charles glanced at him from the corner of sparkling sapphire eyes.

"Are you done?" he inquired, politely.

Erik scoffed _. "No,"_ he hissed. "I have a whole other round when we get on dry land," he informed him huffily. Charles's smile grew until it turned into a snicker, then a chuckle, then an outright roaring laugh. He fell onto his back, laughing until tears were falling down his cheeks.

Michael was aghast. He stared at Charles, flabbergasted. "What the hell are you laughing at?" He asked.

Charles pointed to Erik, holding his sides tightly. If anything, it seemed to make Erik even angrier. "He… He…Called me an idiot for trying to save one….But you…" he poked Erik in the side. "You nearly drowned to save two of us, including a _human_! You came back for us… I told you there was good in you, Erik. I _told_ you!" This point seemed to put Charles into a fit of stitches as he clapped Erik on the back. "Well done, my friend!" He snickered. Charles flopped unto his back, victoriously. " _I win!"_

Erik, who had even staring at Charles while he gave his explanation, looked as if he very much wanted to throw him back in the ocean. Raven couldn't help but feel laughter bubbling up in her too.

It was rather funny when you thought about it.

Still, she wasn't sure she should laugh when Erik looked so positively murderous. Erik looked up; his face darkening until…The façade broke. Erik shoved Charles roughly, high-pitched snickers erupting from him too. "Shut up, Charles," he replied as laughter overtook him and then they were both laughing themselves silly at the bottom of the tiny lifeboat. It only took a few second for the others to join in, hysterically, and Raven could never remember being so happy; or feeling so much like she belonged.

"Just shut up."


	16. Chapter 16

**_Three weeks later_**

"GO, BANSHEE!" Alex screamed at the top of his lungs, his heart pumping wildly as his friend flashed past him on his third lap. A sonic scream ripped through the air, momentarily hitting Alex's eardrums with enough force to break it. He didn't cringe, well used to it by now. A second later, the quick flutter of wings signaled Angel as she also passed the third lap.

"Come on Angel!" Raven whooped from next to him, waving her arms in the air as they watched the two flying mutants whip around the satellite dish. Next to her, Azazel stood stoic and silent, but in his eyes Alex could see excitement and genuine enjoyment (it had only taken them a week and a half to get it out of him) there, and perhaps also content. Next to him Riptide stood like a kid, grasping unto the railing of the balcony and watching Banshee's every twist and turn intensely.

He would growl when Banshee missed a tight turn; muttering a sincere 'oh, come _on_!' and slam his hands down when he would get ahead, raising his arms as if that mere gesture announced his imminent victory. It was just like a football game. Behind them, seated on a pull-out lawn chair was Emma Frost.

She was ignoring the proceedings with debonair, flipping through a fashion magazine while sipping the martini she had stolen from Charles's secret stash. Sitting next to her in a very beaten up lawn chair was Hank.

He was scribbling way at a water-worn piece of paper with a pencil, glancing up only occasionally. He was supposed to be keeping track of who was winning, but Alex knew that the other mutant was secretly working out a cure for Charles's legs. It had been all he spent his time doing since they had gotten back to the mansion two weeks earlier.

After the ship had sunk, they had devised an unsteady, flawed plan to return to the mansion, and any day now Alex knew he might wake up and find that their gentle accord had vanished beneath the weight of outside happenings. Erik and Raven had agreed to return to the mansion with them, for the sole reason of _'we've seen what happens when you five are left alone'_ as Raven had joked, gesturing to the storm around them.

Really, Alex knew that Charles's near death had scared both Erik and Raven, enough to bring Angel, Riptide and Azazel with them, much to the anger of the other mutant revolutionaries.

Moira and Michael, on the other hand, had agreed to remain with the soldiers and return to Washington D.C, where they would plead on the behalf of the mutant cause before Congress. Erik had sneered at that, telling the two that their efforts would come to nothing, but Michael and Moira had been persistent.

 _"_ _In the meanwhile,"_ Moira had told them before joining Michael in the general's lifeboat _. "Stay low, and don't call attention to yourselves. I'll try to keep the CIA off your tail,"_ she had smiled, bitterly _. "I don't know how well that will work out,"_ but it seemed as if Moira's efforts had been successful so far, for Alex had seen nothing out of the ordinary, probably because the CIA didn't know _where_ they were.

Erik worried every day that Moira might tell them, but Charles assured him that Moira would rather die than give away their secret location. So the four of them had returned in sub to New York, stopping off (It was Erik's idea) to free Ms. Frost.

Why they did that had not been explained by either Charles or Erik. At arrival, almost everyone had slept for nearly two days, exhausted, before getting up again and trying not to eliminate each other. Not that Alex was complaining overly though. He enjoyed the company of the other mutants.

True, sometimes it was tense considering the fact that Angel had betrayed them; Riptide had tried to kill them; Emma was fond of reading everyone's thoughts aloud; Erik still wanted world domination; Raven was still angry at Charles and just generally because all of them were still getting used to one another; but nothing had blown up yet.

 _Yet._

And at Erik's insistence, they had begun training again, testing out their powers and learning more each day. Sean had been the one to suggest this racing game between him and Angel, and it had become the new favorite sport of the house. Close behind it was the match of Azazel and Raven, both of whom had superior flexibility and gymnastics skills and thus were great hand-to-hand combat fighters.

Alex and Riptide both enjoyed boxing, and so frequently went at that together. Hank liked discussing astrophysics with Emma, who, unbeknownst to all of them, had been a science teacher before joining up with Shaw. Why she had joined was not given, but she and Hank could go at discussion all day long, and if _Charles_ was added to the mix? The three of them were known to stay up until three o clock in the morning arguing over Newton's laws of physics…Or something like that. Alex didn't really like science.

Charles and Erik still played chess every evening in the study, and Erik had begun installing an elevator in the house for Charles's wheelchair. All of them, so far, had found some way to get along.

That did not stop Alex from being aware that it was only a matter of time before politics got in the way. Mutants had been exposed after all, and there was even footage –who released it was unknown- of them in Cuba.

Granted, it was only ten second snapshots of Sean flying, his sonic screams booming through the television, Azazel and Riptide caught on camera at the CIA headquarters killing those men, Erik bending the submarine… The scariest pictures possible, basically.

No pictures of the girls, which had offended them. None of him or Charles, with his harmless English face. It did not matter that they had been trying to save the world, as Moira and Michal desperately tried to explain on the radio; but rather that they were freaks, and inconsistencies in the subtle perfection of humanity. At least, that's what the radio hosts told them in reply.

Eventually Erik had just crushed the radio.

So they were out of entertainment, and had resorted to beating each other up instead. Alex, each day, tried to put it out of his mind what might happen any day now, or where his brother was, or what any of them were going to do if the CIA did come… He was getting better at ignoring the danger they were in. That or he was just getting used to the feeling of always being in danger, his shoulders starting to relax each passing minute. If they came, then they came. If they died, then they died.

 _At least we'll die having fun,_ he thought with some satisfaction as Banshee's scream ripped through the air. Angel coughed a fire loogie at him from before, which he deftly swiveled around before turning on his back, arms outstretched and delivered a high-pitched hiccup that acted like a punch. Having received bruises already, they knew each other's tricks. "To the _left_ , you fool!" Riptide grunted beneath his breath, coaching softly. Alex rolled his eyes.

"Wooh! Come on Sean! One more lap!" He called. He saw Sean give a little wave of acknowledgment before he passed them again, whooshing the air right from their lungs. Angel was close enough to grab his legs. Raven leaned over the edge, laughing.

"Yeah, Angel! You got this!" She hurrahed. Alex half turned, and called teasingly out to Hank.

"Hey, bozo! Aren't you gonna come cheer on our man?" He asked. Hank raised a fist half-heartedly, not looking up from his work.

"Yah, yah, someone defy gravity today!" He stated without much excitement, eyes skimming over the chemical properties. Raven laughed.

"Nice rhyme, Beast!" She congratulated good-naturedly. _Now_ the bozo looked up, and he gave her a feral grin.

"Isn't it?" he agreed.

"Maybe," Emma remarked smoothly, pushing her sunglasses onto her face with one manicured finger. "But your formula is missing a carbon," Hank's eyes immediately went back down to his work. Raven's face fell as she was once again reminded of where Hank's priorities laid and Alex had to admit that some part of him felt a cold approval because of it. After all, he still did not think it right that Erik and Raven had just up and _ditched_ in the first place.

Those thoughts were neatly pulled away by a winner however. Raven nearly jumped off the balcony as she screamed in victory. Riptide was saved from doing the same in defeat by Alex's hand on his shoulder. The other mutant cursed in Spanish. Azazel let out a satisfied harrumph, eyes sparkling.

"Ah, come on Banshee! That was lame!" Alex sighed when Sean landed on the balcony gasping for breath Angel landed next to him, flicking a piece of dark raven hair from her face gracefully. Alex tried not to stare.

"Maybe next time fly-boy," Angel purred, patting Sean on the back. Raven shook her head and lopped an arm through Angel's companionably.

"You try it then!" Sean replied, throwing him a dirty look. Alex chuckled.

"Maybe I will!" He cried. "Hey Beast-can you fix me up a flying suit too?" he asked. Hank waved a dismissive hand.

"Give me twenty minutes and a coffee. It'll be done," he promised casually. Azazel snorted. Emma hmm'ed beneath her breath.

"If you're doing that, I want to help," she declared. "So give us ten minutes-and a vodka," she lowered her eyes to hide beneath eyelashes, and Alex thought he saw a glint of diamond on her skin. "For scientific purposes," Hank barked out a laugh. Alex grinned, settling an arm around Sean's shoulders as Raven rolled her eyes; Angel giggled; Azazel cocked his eyebrows; Emma smiled flirtatiously and really, he could not remember ever having been so happy.

* * *

Charles was miserable.

Not in the regular way of being miserable; in which something does not go someone's way and the world seems dull for a bit before common sense kicked in and they reasoned out why the world was not so very bad. No. Charles's misery came from a deeper source.

His connection to all beings.

 _"_ _Charles?"_

Hilda's words came back to him now, as he sat in his family's study surrounded by innumerable books. Shelves and shelves that touched the high Victorian ceiling and old leather bound books that smelled of everything from citrus to cedar to cigar pipes. He had never read them all, doubted he ever would. Suddenly, it seemed less important that he should. Not while people were out there suffering

People were _dying._

 _"_ _Touching a person's mind is one thing. But what he did with you? Touching the soul...? He has already seen the world burning, Josef… I don't want him to know what the souls of this world are doing too."_

Now Charles saw the merciful wisdom of Hilda's statement. One of the proudest days of his life had been the day he had learned to connect to people in an intimate and special way. He did not regret having learned it. He regretted what he learned _from_ it.

 _"_ _Charles?"_

And Charles was shut away in this _prison_ , again. Not only that though, he was confined to a chair, sitting, imprisoned in a single position and place for the rest of his days. Charles struggled to stay above the water of self-pity, but the present state of things did not help. He wanted to help.

It had not taken Hank long to make a miniature Cerebro underground. Charles had not allowed Emma anywhere near it (he still didn't trust her) though he had gone into it himself, and seen into minds once again.

Once again he was reminded of how many mutants were still out there, waiting. Their hopes, dreams, fears and ambitions melded into their DNA more strongly than any chromosome. He wanted a chance to nourish those genes, better than he had done Raven. He wanted to _help._

"Charles!" The telepath jumped, startled by the voce that suddenly came as if from nowhere. He blinked himself out of his stupor to see Erik sitting across from him at the small table where the other man had already set up the chess table. Behind him, light from the setting sun was coming in through the large windows, landing on Erik's back and setting his dark auburn hair aflame with a halo. He cocked an Erik like eyebrow at Charles's startled look, scowling.

Charles blushed, embarrassed. Usually his telepathy made it all too easy to know exactly where everyone was. The others often did not even announce their presence in the room when they came in, but trusted him to know. This time, though, he had been completely unaware of Erik's coming or going due to his own runaway musings. He shook his head and glanced down at the full chess set.

"Forgive me," he mumbled, taking his first pawn. If Erik hadn't started yet it meant he wanted Charles too. Erik was studying him candidly.

"Are you alright?" He inquired. "You're not usually so… Preoccupied," he said. Charles opened his mouth; his first impulse being to say that he was perfectly fine, but then he recalled whom he was speaking too. This was Erik; not Raven. He did not have to protect this friend from harsh truths here. Erik had lived them already.

"I'm just thinking," he admitted with a sigh. Erik nodded and took up his own pawn. The beginning never changed; it was already structured into tradition and dictum between them.

"I assume it has something to do with the humans?" he inquired. Charles smiled. Of course that would be what was on Erik's mind.

"Not this time, my friend," he said. Erik glanced up, surprised.

"Well, then," he smoothly set his next piece into place before leaning back in his chair. He glanced at the bottle of red wine he had set down next to him, a question in his eyes. Charles felt as if he needed something stronger than wine, but nodded. He kept his eyes on the chess set as he examined the board wonderingly. The last few times he and Erik had played; they had either never finished or been at a stalemate. _One of these days,_ Charles thought, a competitive edge kicking in. _One of these days I will win._

Erik poured himself a small glass of wine, then Charles one. He handed him the glass. Charles nodded his thanks. "What _are_ you thinking about?" Erik inquired once they both had taken a sip.

Charles felt the wine flow own his tongue and his throat, silky and fruity. He leaned back in his own wheelchair, setting his elbows upon the arm rest and stroking his chin thoughtfully. He was silent a moment; gathering his thoughts. Erik waited, never taking his eyes from his face as if the secrets of the universe were to be found upon Charles's brow. "Death," the telepath replied, at last.

Erik had made his first actual move, setting the queen into pace. Charles smiled he had predicted his friend might do that, surprised by the response Charles had given.

If Erik was taken aback, he did not show it. He merely nodded and swung one leg over his knees, both arms resting on his armrests. "Understandable," he replied without much alarm. "After all, how many times have you almost died this past month, Charles? Forty-seven?" he inquired. Charles smiled and gave Erik a dry look.

"Two," he corrected.

"Hmmm, it _felt_ like forty-seven," Erik informed him. Charles chuckled softly and moved his Knight.

"Speaking of which," he piped up, as something occurred to him. He flashed a grin. "I don't believe that I have yet thanked you for saving my life Erik," the metal-bender shrugged, taking another delicate sip of wine that belied his violent personality.

"You'd do the same for me," he pointed out. "Have, in fact," Charles's brow furrowed.

"I hope you didn't risk yourself out of some misplaced sense of gratitude, Erik," he said, slightly offended by the thought that his life had been saved for what he had done and not who he was. Erik, however, shook his head.

"I would have just taken care of Raven and called us even, if that were the case," he grunted, candidly. "I came back for the boys' sake really, and it would have been bad form just to let you drown," Charles snickered softly recognizing the teasing tone in Erik's voice.

"Very rude," he agreed. "Nevertheless, thank you for saving me Erik," he said sincerely, feeling a warm affection grow in his chest for this man who had displayed the goodness that Charles knew was there.

Erik nodded and looked up, offering his cup to clink. "It's what friends are for, isn't it?" he asked, a bit hesitantly as if he did not know whether or not Charles would agree with him.

The telepath readily clinked his cup against Erik's in a toast. "Indeed," he established. Then, he gazed back down at the board, shaking his head at Erik's move. He tsked beneath his breath. Only half of their minds were on the game. He knew what Erik was thinking, and he had to distract him before he voiced his hatreds aloud.

"There are others," he stated suddenly. Erik set his empty cup down and poured himself another glass, waiting patiently for the rest of the thought to come. It had occurred to Charles that besides himself, Erik was possibly one of the most patient people in the world.

"I feel them every time that I put on Cerebro," he mumbled. " _Mutants_ , Erik. Children like Raven and Hank, afraid to show their true forms for fear of what others might think. Because they believe themselves to be hideous" he looked up, passion growing in his voice and expanding in his soul until it consumed him in one piece.

"Children like Alex and Sean, afraid to use or even acknowledge their powers because they're terrified that they might hurt someone. Children like Riptide, Angel and Emma who may hide in plain sight but always feel alone and… Lost,"

He wanted to help. "Children like us," his fists clenched as memories flooded his conscious, years of feeling trapped, afraid, desperate to survive and protect the ones he cared about. "Whose parents hate them or use them. Who wander the streets alone filled with anger and pain. I _feel_ their pain, and it tears me apart," his eyes blazed, and he felt in Erik's mind the same blazing fury that such things were allowed to occur. It wasn't right.

"We have to do something," he stated with finality. Erik gave him a look that said 'and just what have I been talking about all this time?' to which Charles shook his head.

"I don't mean annihilate the humans, Erik," he informed him sharply. "I mean do what we've done here," he gestured outside to the fading sun, where most of the other residents were still outside practicing and improving. "Take them in. Train them to use their powers constructively, _teach_ them that their lives do matter and that they're perfectly fine the way they are," he said.

"Teach them how to defend themselves," Erik added. Charles nodded, reluctantly.

"They'll need it in the times ahead," he accepted. "But for right now what those mutants _need_ is a sanctuary, Erik. And, well, this mansion _is_ empty…" he trailed off, hoping Erik might understand. The other had sat up sometime during Charles's speech, the chess board forgotten between them. He eyed him curiously.

"What are you saying Charles?"

Charles inhaled a deep breath. What _was_ he saying? "I want to start a school for mutants," the words came out of his mouth before the thought was fully formed. "A boarding school. Goodness knows there are enough rooms in here for hundreds of children, and still more for classes," his mind began to churn, the idea taking shape and form in his mind until he could see it, could taste it and know that it was the right thing to do. "If we just move some things around, create a nice…"

Erik was smiling with amusement, but Charles knew he had tickled his interest. "Woah, slow down there Charles," Erik told him calmly. "This is a good idea, but how many children are we talking about here? And who will teach them?" He asked.

Charles blinked. "Why us, of course," he said.

"For hundreds of children?" Charles groaned, seeing the logic of this. They couldn't very well have two hundred people in one class.

"Why are you spoiling my fun, Erik?" he demanded. "You're like an annoying older sibling," which he basically was, in a way. Erik snorted.

"Just," he raised his cup passively. "Pointing out options. We might want to start out with only a couple children, Charles. Like we did here. Once that batch is trained, we will have more teachers. We'll build up slowly, you see?" Charles did see the sense of it. He also heard something else.

"You keep using the word _we_ ," he pointed out, cautiously. "Does that mean that you are on board with this, Erik?" He asked. Erik's smile fell into a contemplative expression. He looked down at the board, thinking. Charles leaned back allowing him the time.

Finally, when the sun had sank lower into the sky and the other mutants were heard downstairs raiding Charles's kitchen, Erik sighed. "I wish I could, but I can't Charles," he said at last. "I agree with what you're doing, but this is more your duty in our cause," he shook his head.

"I can't just wait in this mansion, hidden, and teach children when the world they'll be entering isn't like it is here," he gestured outside, downstairs, through the house. "It's peaceful here, isolated, _safe_. The world isn't like that. I would forever be blaming myself for not making it right," he admitted. Charles nodded. Honestly, he had been expecting something like that from Erik.

"You won't hide anymore," he added, remembering Raven's zealous speech on the subject of hiding. Erik seemed relieved that he had phrased it so simply.

"Never again," he agreed with determined glint in his yes that looked cannily like steel.

Chares stroked his chin. "I see. It's alright. I suspect some others"-like his sister-"will agree with your sentiments. I have a different task I think would benefit from your expertise. One outside of these walls," Erik cocked an inquisitive eyebrow, but Charles only smiled mysteriously.

He would supply details later; when he knew them preferably. The glint softened. "But it would be a pleasure to help you begin, Charles," Erik continued. "Besides," he took a last swig of his wine. "I still have to finish that elevator," he concluded. Charles chuckled.

"Good to know you have priorities," he laughed. "And thank you, Erik. We'll have to speak it over with the others. They can begin rebuilding while we retrieve the children," Erik snorted.

"You trust them not to destroy the house in our absence?" He asked.

Charles grinned. "I _hope_ they won't, rather. I imagine Hank would love to begin renovating the floor plans of this old mansion. It will give him something to do besides work on that cure he's convinced exists," he said.

Erik glanced up. "He's done the impossible before, Charles," he pointed out mildly.

"Not this time," he squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, sadness coming back up and the waters of self-pity threatening to take him.

"You don't want a cure?"

"I don't want to hope for something that might never happen, and there are other ways for Hank to expend his genius than on me," Erik shook his head, looking as if he wanted to argue, but wisely stayed silent.

Charles charged on. "Raven's been spending my money wisely for years. She knows how to shop for needed supplies. I'm sure Emma can show us how to organize paperwork, being a teacher and everything," then, as another odd fact in his ever odd life occurred to him, he asked: "Erik why exactly did we free Emma? You never explained that," and Charles disliked not being explained too, especially when it came to women who were murderous, but this was Erik; and he had just saved Charles's life when he suggested it, and technically it had been his submarine so Charles had not protested.

Now that she was in his house, however…

Erik shrugged. "If we get attacked, we'll need all the help we can get," he replied smoothly. Charles narrowed his eyes as his telepathy told him a different thing. Lies were always easiest to pick up, and for goodness sakes, did Erik suppose he was that naïve?

"Oh?" he inquired, suspiciously. "I believe you mean that when you go forward with your plans of world domination, you figured a telepath would be a handy resource, considering the fact that _I'm_ not coming," Erik didn't deny it. He merely grinned roguishly and shrugged.

"Intuitive as always, my friend," he congratulated. "And that is my plan-unless you can come up with an alternative way of defending ourselves," he challenged.

"I'll get right on that then," he promised, with some dryness. Now Erik was even inadvertently bossing him around like an older sibling. _He_ was the one with the power to control minds. And read them, which meant that….

"She _is_ very pretty, isn't she?" he asked, studying Erik teasingly. His prying was justly rewarded when Erik gave him a venomous glance.

"What are you talking about Charles?" Then added, with the same teasing tone: "I think she's just a bit too old for you," he pointed out. Charles waved a dismissive hand, wondering how they had gone from talking about world domination to schooling to women.

"You don't even know how old I am, Erik…"

"Twenty-one."

"Raven told you that. Anyway, I agree. But she isn't too old for you, and hmm, you two do share some personality traits," he mused. Erik crossed his arms.

"Like what?" he demanded.

Charles counted them on his fingers. "Oh, I don't know. Both of you are quite stubborn, fierce, vengeful, impetuous, independent…" Erik interrupted him briskly.

"How do you know all these things Charles?" He asked irritably. Charles was having fun.

He waved a hand over his head. "Take a guess," he dared.

Erik's face was beet red by this time, with aggravation or mortification Charles didn't really care. "So you just go around reading minds?"

Now it was Charles's turn to act surprised. "Erik, have you honestly been unaware that I do that this entire time?" He asked.

"I thought you stopped reading minds after that fiasco with Raven!"

"I stopped reading _Raven's_ mind. Not yours," Charles informed him cheerfully.

"Get out of my head, Charles!"

"I'm not in it! Your mind sends me projections of Emma naked about every fifteen seconds. So get out of _my_ head, Erik!" Erik slammed a fist down on the table, now completely mortified.

"Damn you, Charles!"

Said person laughed, and could not remember ever having been so hopeful for the future.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Two weeks later:**_

Angel was sitting next to Alex a lot.

The two would laugh and talk like old friends, their hardened hearts softening when around each other. Raven could already hear the doves in the air. Alex and Riptide enjoyed each other's company. Riptide, in particular, like creating hurricanes for Banshee to try and escape or make worse with sonic noise. They were like two little kids who had discovered that they could do more with rocks than just chuck them at each other.

Azazel and she had started a gym routine, and her fighting abilities had grown. Emma and Hank were around each other quite often (which irritated her to no end, but no, she was _not_ jealous) talking over some science trivia. Erik and Charles were hardly apart for more than five minutes at a time. If Raven didn't know any better, she would say Erik was stealing her brother.

Sometimes, she felt as if she didn't know any better.

She did not feel this sense of self-pitying loneliness often, just when they were all together, like now. Charles had telepathically called for a 'team meeting' as he called it in his ridiculously British voice, inside of the family room. It was one of the barest rooms in the house, probably because it had been empty most of the time before the other mutants showed up.

She and Charles used to play hide and seek in there. It was probably one of the only places that did not carry Father's horrible mark on it. Raven trusted that was the reason he had chosen it.

The roof was a high ceiling, with ornate decorations carved into its surface, of flowers and angels dancing about the four corners of the room. Charles had always called it supercilious. The walls were a dark burgundy color, and the two mahogany couches inside of it faced towards an indoor theatre, missing an actual T.V. The only picture was a painting of a giant white carnation, the flower a stark contrast to the dark theme of the room.

It was also one of the only rooms with carpet, and thus Sean and Alex came in with socks, rubbing their feet on the ground and trying to shock each other playfully. Hank's fur stood on end like small needles. He looked most unhappy about it. Raven took a seat next to Hank on the second couch, curling her feet up beneath her as they all awaited Charles and Erik.

"What's this meeting been called for anyway?" Sean asked the general assembly as he dodged Alex's electric fingers.

"I imagine it is to congratulate us," Hank growled, his eyes following Sean and Alex with irritability.

"For what?" Sean asked, pretending not to be aware of Hank's discomfort. "Remaking this house into school extraordinaire?" he wondered proudly.

"Xavier's school for gifted youngsters," Angel announced with a grand flourish as she flew into the room, wings flapping. As Raven watched enviously, she winked at Alex. His head followed her as he smiled back in greeting. Sean shoved into him with a loud exclamation, both of them shocking each other senseless and tumbling to the floor. A devious chuckle to her left alerted Raven to the appearance of Azazel. He had popped in without a sound, and was watching the proceedings with amusement. Riptide rolled his eyes net to him, muttering in Spanish.

Raven nodded thoughtfully. When Charles had first announced his idea to recreate the mansion into a school-with them as the teachers- Raven had been unsure what to make of it. She wanted to do more than just _teach_ ; that seemed like a characteristic Charles thing.

But Hank, Sean and Alex had thrown themselves into it with all the gusto of schoolboys themselves, and their energy had rubbed off on the rest of them. At the end of it, when the classrooms were mostly ready and now the only thing left to do was reconfigure the rooms they all took a certain measure of pride in what they had accomplished. Raven had a few ideas about the rooms herself.

Besides, Erik had privately assured her that their plans would not be dissuaded by this-but momentarily put off. _"They need us, Raven,"_ he had told her conspiratorially, glancing at her wheelchair prone brother.

Charles had been directing Hank and Azazel as they carried in a large metal table for the science wing, faces red and sweaty from strain. _"No, that way! Into the foyer. Or, perhaps the upstairs west wing. What do you say, Emma?"_ He had wondered with all the thoughtful excitement of a contemplative puppy. Raven's heart had melted as she realized Erik was right.

Charles looked happier and more purposeful than she had ever seen him. This school would be his new pride and joy. He would get more children to teach and protect. He wouldn't need her anymore. The possibility sent a shiver of excitement up her spine-for with it came the thought of freedom unencumbered by Charles's incessant worry, but also sadness. He was, after all, still her big brother.

"I think," Emma grandly made her opinion clear as she fairly glided in after Angel, sharp blue eyes mischievous and feisty and beautiful. "That this is about whatever Erik and Charles have been arguing over the past few weeks," she said.

"How do you know they've been arguing?" Raven asked, though she had noticed it too. It seemed more like hot debating than arguing. She had seen Charles argue, and what he and Erik were doing was civilized.

Nevertheless, they had all seen them out of the corner of their eyes, quietly having back-and-forth conversations when they thought no one was looking.

Emma flicked her long golden hair contemptuously. Raven was tempted to make a face at her. "I should think that'd be an obvious answer by now, honey," she said sarcastically, gesturing to her head and the mind contained therein.

"Not exactly," Hank piped up, before Raven could. "After all, you aren't likely to get anything that way. Charles is a more powerful telepath than you are," he told her, not with gloating or anger, but merely in that matter-of-fact scientific way that made Raven smile. That was Hank: always the reasoned scientist.

"Thank you Hank," a new voice said mildly as he wheeled himself in, followed closely by Erik. "I'm glad someone seems to understand that, since Ms. Frost has been taking daring liberties as of late," Charles sent Emma a look full of warning. "I'd advise you to stay out of my head, Emma," he cautioned, with no more threat than usual, but the steel in his eyes told Raven that though they might not be privy to the mental battle; it would not end well with Emma.

She backed down gracefully, and with sarcasm. "But it's such a pretty head, professor," she drawled flirtatiously. Charles cocked an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Oh, I know," he assured her, wheeling past with some difficulty on the plush rug. "However, it remains _off limits_ ," he continued.

At last, Charles wheeled himself to the front of the room, beneath the carnation painting while the others piled onto the couches facing them, eyes intent. Erik stood beside him, arms crossed. "Well," Charles then began, with a reasonably more cheerful tune. He glanced at them all, eyes twinkling. "I would congratulate everyone here on their hard work. The school is near to done," he announced.

The mutants in the room broke into applause, clapping each other on the back and shoulders, smiling. "You all know the basic arrangement," Charles continued. "This time we will retrieve six children, bring them back here, and teach them ourselves," his next affectionate glance took in the original team. "Everything that we ourselves have learned," he said.

"Hey! Team Shaw busters!" Sean laughed, exchanging a high-five with Alex. Raven couldn't help but laugh at Alex's face when he heard Sean's new nickname for them. He buried his head in his hands.

"That was bad, dude," he told Sean, horrified.

" _However,"_ Charles interjected, the corners of his mouth twitching. "There are other problems going on beyond these walls, problems which I know all of you are aware of," the smiles immediately dropped from Alex and Sean's faces. Hank squirmed uncomfortably. Raven crossed her arms, feeling that coal of determination in her chest grow larger. It was about _time_ someone addressed it.

"The human/mutant situation is going to be a tricky and - more than likely- violent one, but because we have the knowledge of it; we have the power to prevent it," Charles glanced at Erik. "You all are aware that Erik and I have different… Philosophies about how to approach this issue. This school is only one portion of a plan we have devised to help mutant-kind. The other plan will adhere to more _direct_ means," he told them, sounding curiously okay with this. Raven leaned forward.

Erik shuffled his feet. "I'm still half convinced you used telepathy to talk me into this Charles," he grumbled, and Raven could see that this plan didn't sit completely with Erik. There was another agenda he had for taking it. An agenda she was relatively sure only he and Charles knew about.

"If only," Charles shot back.

"So what is it?" Emma asked impatiently, eyes twitching from Erik to Charles and back.

"A bet, for lack of a better word," Erik piped in, crudely cutting off Charles in mid-breath. "Charles here is still convinced that the humans won't try to destroy us…"

"Of course he is," Raven snorted bitterly.

" _If_ ," Erik went on emphatically. "We show them that we are no threat, or that our powers could be constructive in society," he explained.

"Why should we have to show them that?" Angel demanded, eyes flashing.

"Why should we have to prove ourselves to them when they already hate us?" Raven seconded that statement.

"They fear us," Charles corrected calmly. "Because they don't know what to make of us. They don't know what's happening to make us this way or what will happen to them. They're afraid we might take over and if we do," he sent Erik a pointed glance. "Then we'll only confirm that fear and give them reason to try and annihilate us. Tell me, when you all discovered your powers, were you not afraid and confused?" He wondered.

Only Alex, Sean and Hank nodded, but Charles very well knew the answer to that anyway. "Then why would you expect people who don't feel your power to automatically accept you? Fear eventually will turn into hatred, and by that time it will be too late. We have to stop that before it happens," he said.

"By doing what, professor?" Hank inquired.

"There will be a team," Charles went on. "Similar to when we went to defeat Shaw, going around the world, using your powers to help others…"

"To help the humans?" Raven cut in, unable to believe what she was hearing. Charles didn't look at her.

"I'm sure you'll find some mutants to help in there," he told her flippantly. Raven looked at Erik.

"You've lost your mind," she gawked.

"Or someone's been in your mind without permission," Emma added suspiciously, glowering at Charles. He rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, all of you, if I were to brainwash _anyone_ , why would it be the man who saved my life a scant few weeks ago?" he asked. _The same reason you would brainwash me, because you can't stand not having control,_ Raven thought as anger built in her chest. She hoped Charles had heard the thought, but if he did, he gave no indication of being hurt by it.

"Listen to the catch and you'll see why I agreed to this," Erik instructed them. Raven cocked her brows. There was a catch? "The bet part comes in now," Erik continued. "Our team-led by me-will only have to do this for a year. In that time, Charles is sure," Erik gave Charles a signature 'you bloody idiot' expressions.

"That the humans will see through our efforts the good in all mutants. If they do, we'll do things Charles's way and hope that it works…

" _Until_ it works, Erik…"

"Notwithstanding, if by that time, some significant change has not happened in the human/mutant relations, we'll take matters into our own hands," Erik stated.

"And I," Charles added. "Will not stand in your way." There was an astonished silence as the others took this new development in. Raven narrowed her eyes, wondering at the complacency in Charles's voice. Was he really so arrogant? It appeared he was, because he sat there, calm as a king on his metal throne, and watched for their reactions.

"So let me get this straight," Riptide cut in. "We're going to go help humans for an entire year… Just to make sure you stay out of our way?" he asked Charles.

" _If_ you win the bet," Charles agreed, nodding.

"Professor, a year isn't nearly enough time for people to change their minds about an entire species," Hank told him worriedly. "It's impossible," he told him. Charles gave Hank a consoling smile.

"My dear friend, many of what we have done in the past few months has been impossible. I'm willing to bet my stakes on this new endeavor too," he chirped.

"I think this is stupid," Riptide cut in angrily. He pointed at Charles, his eyes going to Erik. "Why are we even concerned with whether or not he tries to stop us? We should be doing it anyway!" he cried. Erik cocked an eyebrow.

"If he stands in our way, he can join the humans in their grave," Emma drawled, without much scruple. Alex, Sean and Hank bristled.

Charles barked out a laugh. "And I thought we had such a fondness for each other Emma," he said without humor.

Erik gave them both a look of absolute authority. "If we were to go ahead with our plans now, Charles would fight us tooth and nail. We'd spend more time warding off his attacks than actually getting anything of worth done," he told them matter-of-factly.

"Don't forget about us," Alex added, gesturing to him, Sean and Hank. "We're on Charles's side," Hank nodded firmly, staring at her from the corner of his eyes. Raven tried not to show how much his siding with Charles stung her.

"However, when this bet turns out our way," Erik proceeded. "He won't lift a finger. Things will go smoothly and without a bump," he informed them. He shrugged, a small smile creeping unto his mouth.

"Who knows?" he asked, turning to Hank, Sean and Alex. "Maybe you boys will change your minds once you see the evil of humans," he considered. By the expressions on aforementioned boy's faces, however, Raven severely doubted they'd ever see eye to eye, if only to spite Erik.

She shook her head, another fact occurring to her. "I can't believe you're staking our entire species on a bet you two made overnight!" she said, referring to both Erik and Charles, scandalized. She looked between the two, wondering if it would have been less cruel to just allow Charles to drown. When this didn't work, it would destroy him just to sit back and watch. Unless, he were to join them, but that was highly unlikely.

"It took the past two weeks, actually," Erik corrected.

"And hours of fighting over it instead of playing chess. You'll be rusty, my friend," Charles observed, almost breezily, to Erik. The metal-bender sent him an amused glance before turning back to them seriously.

"Who will come with me?" he asked. At first, no one moved. Raven could feel the tension in the air, half composed of nervousness from the ones who were staying and anger from the ones who were going. This was so stupid.

But she could see there would be no talking Erik out of it. She stood and walked over to his side, sighing. "If it will get you off our backs, Charles," she grumbled, glaring at her brother. He gave her a sad smile.

She looked to Riptide, Azazel, Angel and Emma. Raven rolled her eyes. "Just come on!" She snapped impatiently. "It isn't as if we've been given a choice in the matter," once again, Charles had snatched the choice out from underneath her for his hypocritical morals. Was this what the rest of her life was going to be like? A puppet to be played by others?

 _Not if I have anything to say about it._

Stirred by the anger in her voice, Riptide joined her at Erik's side, followed by Azazel and Emma. "Oh, and we've been playing so nice together while we pretended to be friends," she purred, pinching Sean's cheek as she passed by.

He slapped her hand away, muttering a playful: "shut up, Emma."

"You've been _pretending_ to be my friend, Emma?" Charles gasped, feigning shock and betrayal. She gave him a shining half shrug.

"Sorry, professor. Your theories on Newton's law were too abstract for me," she told him as Raven examined Angel. The girl seemed torn. Charles snorted.

"That would be a friendship breaker with you," he replied dryly. Then, he cocked his head as if he had heard something, eyes sliding to Angel. "You can say it aloud, Angel," he told her gently. Angel looked up, staring at him gravely before answering.

"Cassidy," she whispered, head bowed so that none of them could see her eyes. "My real name is Cassidy," Alex squeezed her hand. "And I'm staying here," she said. Raven was taken aback.

"What?" She gasped. Erik seemed surprised as well.

"Why?" he blurted. Angel looked up and gestured to the walls of the mansion.

"Just look at this place. It so peaceful here, so safe. I've never had that in my life, and there are kids out there who probably don't either. I want to give them what no one ever gave me," her eyes brightened with idealistic determination that Raven had never expected to see in An-Cassidy's eyes. "I want to give them peace. No more war," she shook her head and repeated, in a voice lost in painful memories. "No more fighting."

Erik stared at her for a long moment, his eyes torn between being angry and understanding before he shrugged. "If that is what you want; very well," he conceded reluctantly. "We'll miss you on the team, Angel, but teaching future mutants is good work. Worthy work. Those kids out there will need good teachers," he nodded, with finality as if he had forced himself to come to this conclusion.

"And all of you are always more than welcome here anyway," Charles added kindly, grinning at her. She smiled back, tentatively. Charles's eyes slid to the mutants going with Erik. " _All_ of you," he repeated and it was a promise. One Raven did not intend to fulfill. If she never saw this house again, it would be an honor.

She looked up At Erik-their new leader- and scowled. Somehow, by the look in his eyes, she knew that he did not feel the same.


	18. Chapter 18

"Alex," the voice scared the living daylights out of him, but he tried not to let it show. Considering his spectator however, he was not sure he succeeded in that. Alex Summers swiveled around; abandoning the sight before him as if it were one he would see the same every day. Admittedly, some would say so of the sunset. After all, it came everyday. However, this one seemed different.

Maybe it was because Erik, Raven and the others were leaving after Erik and Charles brought the kids back. Maybe it was because he knew that somewhere out there, Moira and Michael were discussing mutant rights before an unforgiving audience. Maybe it was, as he had often thought, because every sunset looked different without Scott there. However, Alex very much suspected it was because Angel- _Cassidy_ -had decided to stay. There. In the mansion.

With him.

He wished this didn't matter so much in his mind, and _really_ it had to matter a significant amount for the sun to feel different because of it. After all, Alex couldn't stand disloyalty; and Angel had shown it in full degrees. She had left with Shaw even after he had murdered Darwin. She had tried to kill them.

The phrase that came to mind was ironically, _"all's fair in love and war,"_ which was a lie. His feelings right now? Not fair. He felt like a traitor just being around her. And yet if he was one, he felt treacherously good about the whole affair. What the heck was wrong with him?

These were the musings crossing his mind when Charles snuck up on him, managing to be stealthy in a wheelchair like every other weird teacher in the world. Sitting out on the back porch had never been a pastime of Alex's _before_ he met Professor Xavier but he had found it oddly soothing now, as he leaned against the clean white balcony and gazed at the setting sun over the trees and hills of New York. This was an oddly romantic scene, and he didn't do romance. So what was he doing out here?

Charles did not ask. Instead, the other man rolled himself beside Alex, his expression thoughtful. "Oh, hey professor," Alex said, trying to sound flippant when his heart had skipped a beat out of fright. "What's up?" he asked. Charles stopped at his side, his brow furrowed.

He did not look at Alex, instead the sunset. "Alex," said boy straightened, worry niggling beneath him. There was none of the familiar casual fondness in Charles's tone now. This was not a social call. He was there talking about something serious. "How old was Scott, when you last saw him?" that question took Alex's breath away a second time, this time with shock.

"Scott?" he repeated. "Er…" he scratched his head, a bit sheepish that he had to strive to remember. "Seven and a half, I think. Why?" Charles glanced at him.

"And did he show any signs of…Being like us? Of mutation?" Charles was asking all sorts of odd questions today, wasn't he?

Alex shook his head, bewildered at the sudden questions about his brother. It wasn't as if he and Charles had not spoken of him before, but this was rather sudden. "No," he answered with surety. "He's human," –one of the many reasons he condemned Erik's war against them- "that's why I left remember? I didn't want to hurt him with my powers, or have my aunt discover me and kick us both out," he reminded Charles.

The older man nodded. "I know," he agreed softly, his eyes still set on the sunset. There was concern in his stormy blue eyes. Alex felt sweat bead his brow. Did Charles know something?

"Why are you asking me all of this, Charles?" he asked, forgoing the affectionate nickname professor. Charles was silent for a long span of time, apparently weighing something in him mind. _This isn't good,_ Charles did not often have to think about what he said before he said it. His education coupled with a supreme awareness of other's feelings gave him a supreme advantage in the communications area. If he was thinking about it, it was because he knew how Alex felt and couldn't put his own thoughts into words… Alex wanted to yell at him to spit it out.

Before it came to that however, Charles spoke. "I felt him, Alex," he said, not mincing words. "With Cerebro, I found Scott. He's a mutant," The words felt like a low to the gut. Alex felt his knees buckle. He gripped the white balcony to keep himself steady.

"Are…" he gulped. "Are you kidding me?" he gasped.

Charles shook his head. "I wish I were," he admitted, finally looking up. There was something like sympathy in his eyes. "His powers have manifested already, at an early age I believe. Which means he has great power," Scott? Great power? The kid wasn't even ten yet.

"From what I could tell, his powers were similar to yours, only the lasers come from his eyes. I believe that they have already caused him some trouble because…" here Charles halted, his eyes examining Alex as if to judge whether he were capable of handling the news or not. Alex felt as if his heart would burst.

"What?" he nearly screamed.

"He's put your aunt in the hospital, Alex. I read it in Scott's mind. She's in a coma right now, and he ran away. He's roaming the streets," and _now_ Alex collapsed to his knees in front of Charles. He leaned against the balcony, his heart hammering in his ears at this new. He felt as if his entire world had crumbled.

His little brother… Scott… On the cold and desolate streets, surrounded by lunatics and murderers and gang bangers… Oh, no, _oh, no_ … He closed his eyes, trying to breathe deeply enough to stop himself from passing out. Charles had laid a hand on his shoulder. He squeezed it. When Alex looked up, he saw Charles through a haze of hot tears.

"Charles, is…" his voice wavered out of control. Alex had to try again. "Is he okay? Could you tell?" he asked.

Charles nodded. "He's alright, Alex. I've already checked. He feels horrible for what he's done to your aunt-accidentally, albeit-and lonely, but he's well. He's been getting assistance from an elderly homeless woman, I believe," Alex loved old ladies. Now and forevermore, he adored them.

And the one he adored the most? Whatever kind and tender soul had been helping his baby brother. He would give her a fortune; do anything to show his gratitude to her for doing a job that rightfully should have been his…

"No," he moaned, as his heart ripped itself to shreds. "No. This is exactly why I left. What I didn't want," he said, as a few tears leaked from his eyes.

"Alex," Charles voice was soft, understanding, yet firm. _"I know_ ," and he did. Alex knew he did because he had seen the way Charles catered to Raven's every whim as if she were the reason for his living and breathing. He had seen what Charles would do for the ones he loved, and in that Alex had seen a reflection of himself.

"However, that can wait until later. I need you to be strong at this moment. Now, Scott is already one of the six I've decided to bring to the school. Don't thank me," he hastily ordered when Alex went to throw his arms around him in pure appreciation. "But you must understand- the experiences he's gone through have changed him. He might be angry, hurt, betrayed. It will take time and patience to regain his trust and love. Are you willing to do that?" Alex wondered why the heck Charles would even ask him that. Scott was his brother! _Of course_ he was…

Scott was his brother, and Alex had abandoned him.

True, it had been for his own reasons-ones that he had felt were right at the time-but now he saw that in Scott's eyes, that maybe had not been the case. What if Scott hated him, or worse? What if he didn't want anything to do with him?

 _Can I handle that?_ He wondered, suddenly terrified that he couldn't. Would he be able to live with that guilt and pain that might assault him every time he saw his brother and know that nothing he said would ever fix it between them?

Alex glanced at Charles, suddenly understanding the pain that the other mutant went through every time he laid his eyes on Raven. The telepath was staring at him with deep, mournful eyes which had seen a lot of bad things. Alex squeezed Charles's knee. "Charles," he said feeling as if he had just age twelve years. " _I know_. I'm willing. I'm ready," he was past ready to see his little brother again.

Charles nodded. "Good," he asserted. "I thought you might say that. I took the liberty of asking Hank to create a pair of glasses for Scott, made from the same material he used to make your suit. It should help him control his powers for now," Alex exhaled a breath of relief, once again realizing that he had one more thing to thank Charles and Hank for. That made ten billion total now, he was pretty sure.

"Guess I have to stop calling him bozo now, huh?" he asked.

Charles chuckled, eyes lighting up like fireworks against a darkened sky. "No worries," he assured him. "I'm pretty sure that secretly, Hank enjoys it."

* * *

Emma was one of the last people Erik wanted to see in his room. Granted, he would have been more upset had it been Raven trying her little sexy fiasco like she had the last time. Not that Erik didn't think that Raven was very nice-looking, but he did have a problem with such blatant flirting or … _Gallivanting_ around with her when Charles was right there in the house. Besides, she was quite a bit younger than him.

Emma, on the other hand, had little to do with his morals as much as his patience. And after today? It was very, very thin. He was heading out with Charles in the morning to retrieve their mutant students, and they were leaving at dawn. It was currently ten o clock at night. He did not have time to _dilly-dally._

Apparently Emma didn't care about his sleeping habits. She was sitting on his bed, as unruffled as smooth pond water, filing her nails when he arrived. She looked up, and smiled dazzlingly. His stomach flipped. He scowled, grunted, then opened the door wider.

"Get out," he commanded shortly. She didn't move, merely studied him with those large, calculating blue eyes of hers. It annoyed him to no end that Emma did not even appear _threatened_ by his presence.

"You're so cute," she finally said, with a small giggle.

"Oh?" He asked dryly. "Do I have a pretty head, too?" He inquired.

Emma set her nail filer down with a final polish, examining her manicured fingers with thoughtfulness. "Well, yes," she admitted. "Though yours is more _spicy_ than pretty," she purred. "Which is why I'm actually baffled about your sudden change of heart, sweetie-pie," she told him, standing to her full height slowly, like a panther stretching. Erik watched her warily; aware that this was a very dangerous and powerful telepath he was dealing with here.

"I've already explained this to you, Emma," he sighed.

"You explained what you wanted me to believe," she interrupted sharply, anger flashing in her eyes. "But I am not such a trusting fool as the others, _Erik_ ," he bristled beneath the mocking way she said his name.

"Oh, really?" he asked. "Then why were you hanging around with Shaw?"

Her eyes flashed. She raised her chin proudly. "Because he was a man of action. Of purpose."

"He fed you pretty lies for a pretty head,"

Emma took a few steps forward until they were mere inches away from each other. He was almost two inches taller than her. Erik forced the door closed with a clench of his fist. Thank goodness for metal locks. "He was more a man than you or that stupid fool Xavier claim to be. He was actually _doing_ something for the mutant cause. He was a hero," she growled. Erik's fists clenched.

"Shaw was a monster," he hissed.

"And you're a lapdog!" she replied. Erik recoiled as if he had been slapped.

 _"_ _What?"_

Emma circled him slowly, her own eye filled with hatred and her body tensed with rage. She looked like a buzzard spinning over her prey. "Following after Xavier like his own pet puppy," she whispered in a disgusted tone. "Such good friends you two are… It clouds your judgment, makes you weak. He is a naïve and cowardly fool!" Erik spun around, very tempted to slap her. Before he could bite back a retort however, Emma sneered: "how much did he pay you?" which only succeeded in making Erik even more furious.

"Pay me?" he barked irately. Emma stopped moving, crossing her arms over an ample chest as she probably ransacked his mind looking for answers.

"Charles Frances Xavier. One of the richest men on this side of the country. I do my research, I know what kind of man he is. So, what did he pay you to go along with this soft-skinned scheme?" She demanded. The very insinuation that he would accept that kind of bribe-and that Charles would give it-made Erik positively livid.

"Let's get this straight, Ms Frost," he hissed. "I'm the one who wanted to save you from that prison…"

"Do you expect me to thank you?"

"And I can throw you right back into it! Whatever opinions you have about the plan, fine. But don't you _dare_ insinuate that I am such a dishonorable traitor as to take bribes or that Charles is such a cowardly fool as to offer them. You have no idea who we are," he pointed a stiff and trembling finger in her face.

"Besides, you're one to talk about cowardly dishonor. You were strutting about with the evil swine that killed my _family_!" He was ashamed of the way his voice cracked on the last word, but he figured that Emma would be able to feel the pain that came off him in waves anyway. The confession rolled off his tongue like a curse, shaking with held-in rage and pain. Emma's eyes narrowed.

"Shaw would never," oh, so he had not told his illustrious crew about his past endeavors, had he? About how he had experimented on and tortured Erik for years?

"Oh, and I suppose he told you he loved you, too?" the truth of his statement was in her eyes and the way that she narrowed them. Erik laughed contemptuously. "All he knew how to tell was lies," Erik spat.

"And I suppose I'm to believe you have the truth?" Emma asked skeptically. There was a thread of doubt in her eyes now. His heart burned like hot coals. His breath surged out like a tidal wave of hatred, his entire being consumed in a moment of supreme sickening vengeance where he decided would destroy every last remnant of Shaw. He would steal everything; even the woman who had loved him. Only then would his revenge be complete.

Erik strode forward and, taking one dainty hand in his own, he pressed her fingers into his forehead daringly, never breaking eye contact. Because of that, he saw the way that her eyes widened like saucers, staring at him with shock. After a moment, in which she deduced he was serious, she only whispered: "what are you playing at?"

"You want the truth?" Erik challenged. "Fine. _Take it_."

She was staring at him as if she supposed he had gone mad. "Honey, you can't even imagine the types of things I could do to you in there," he very well could, and he knew that some part of Emma wanted too. He only smiled and said the very last thing he knew she was expecting.

"I trust you," and now she looked like a fish, gasping when it was thrown from its familiar territory unto a strange new shore, and had no idea how to evolve to fit this new environment. Erik kept his eyes trained into hers, steady like Charles did to convey his sincerity.

And as odd as it was, he did trust Emma. He did not know whether it was a bit of Charles rubbing off on him but he saw something… _Else_ in her. True, he saw Shaw's terrible influence, but he also saw more. A gentleness and compassion hidden beneath the depths of wary bitterness and anger; a being very much like Charles. Charles had shown him his good side by trusting that it would come forth when they most needed it. Erik figured the same should work for Emma and really? He _wanted_ it too. He wanted her to see what he had seen and know, at last…

What it felt like not to be alone.

 _Charles is definitely rubbing off on me,_ he was sure his friend would have slapped him upside the head for this had he been present, but after that Charles would probably break into hysteric laughter again. "You're crazy," Emma gaped.

Erik shrugged. "I thought you had noticed," he replied casually. Emma stared at him another fifteen seconds, her large blue eyes warily searching his face as if she suspected he were trying to trick her, before they softened into something like curiosity, and also gratitude.

Erik took it not many people trusted Emma, not in the way that they trusted Charles. Half of that was her own fault, but he knew from his friend that there were many who would accuse telepaths of the most nefarious deeds just because they could. So, with infinite gentleness, Emma took her fingers from his grip and tenderly placed her fingers on either side of his head.

He gasped, for her psychic touch was different from Charles's. Where Charles was like water, gently pooling and flowing between memories, hers was like a decisive knife, slicing through the memories cleanly and without doing more damage than was necessary. However, Charles was warm, all-enveloping, _controlling_. Emma's decisiveness was borne out of compassion, cauterizing the pain caused by the cut with gentle empathy. Erik felt himself relaxing despite the horrible memories that she was rifling through, like flipping through the pages of a book.

Also unlike Charles, who had more control over his own mind, memories leaked out of hers as she went through his.

Erik saw a large classroom, filled with children. Emma taught at an integrated school, one of the only in the country. They were human, most of them. Eager some, innocent many, childish most in their own way, and he felt the love she had for them as she stood at the front of the room like a mother hen over her chicks, and taught. He felt her happiness and content in a classroom, her smiles. Erik saw a dark brown face, plump with childish muscle and an eager mind. A name.

 _Anna._

She was a mutant. Her entire family was mutant. Erik saw nights that Emma spent with the family, laughing and joking. Seeing the mother as a sister, the father as a brother and Anna as her own niece. Anna was a quick study, a vicious hoarder of knowledge many would balk at learning, he saw the admiration in young brown eyes as Anna looked up to her.

 _"_ _Morning, Ms. Frost!"_ She would cry every morning. He could feel the deep love Emma had for these people…Then, one day, tragedy. A mob lynching took the father, grief, sorrow, struggling to console the two women left. The mother fell to drinking; one day drank too much at the bar. Words which were better left unsaid slipped from her mouth, about their mutations. He saw the dark shapes of people scrambling in the dark outside of her house. She knocked them out with her telepathy. Terror. Anger. One Thought:

 _Find Anna._

They went on the run from the government hunting them. Drove hundreds of miles, took dozens of different names, saw suffering and corruption wherever they went. Continuous terror. Horrid fear. Suffering. Guilt, but above all, family. One thought, shared between her and the mother:

 _Protect Anna._

It was Anna's birthday when they were caught in Illinois, celebrating at a gas station with ice cream sandwiches. They were blindfolded, gagged, tied up, driven to a secluded factory in the woods. Erik heard screaming, felt Emma's fear, her despair. Knew that she was in a Concentration Camp of her own.

Separating the three women. Anna screaming: _"Emma! Emma!"_ A collar fitted to her neck, cutting her off from her telepathy. Beatings. Solitary confinement for weeks or months. Finally, she escaped her cell using her diamond form. She crept through the hallways, freed the other prisoners, looked for her girls. Her family.

Found the mother. Experimented on. Beaten. Dead. Rage, grief.

Found Anna in a cell alone. The same. Rage, despair, grief. A mother's noiseless scream of agony. Killing the humans, all of them. Running away with Riptide tucked beneath her arm, two survivors of a horrible place.

Then, finding Shaw in Spain. He made promises of a new world; riches, no worries; a new family. Proclamations of beauty, love, forgiveness, _revenge_.

Then Erik saw nothing more as Emma stepped away from him, her hands falling limply to her sides. He staggered; his own emotions raging as the pictures of Emma's life flashed before his eyes again and again. They weren't so different then. There were tears sparkling in her eyes. She sniffled as she swiped them away, angrily. Erik blinked rapidly.

"Are you alright?" He asked, softly, not knowing what else to say. Emma nodded and looked up. In her eyes was understanding, compassion… Really everything that was in Charles's eyes on a daily basis only better.

Because she understood hatred, she had felt the need for revenge, and thus her compassion was not there just to be there but for a reason. "Erik," her voice cracked. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know…" He nodded.

"Only a few do," he admitted. She looked up, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

"Like Charles?" She inquired. Erik squirmed.

"Quite without my permission, but yes," he admitted.

Emma did not seem surprised. "You two have a bond, you know," she told him softly. "I've never seen it between two people like that unless they're both telepaths, but… I could feel it there. He's placed guards around your mind. Only when he felt that I had your permission did he let me into your head," she told him. Erik was taken aback. Charles had place guards around his mind? When? And why the hell had he done that? Emma saw his confusion.

"Guards keep a telepath out. It's the only reason I haven't read your mind or controlled anyone in this house before. He's protecting you all," of course he was. And only Charles would find it fit not to mention his evident protection to any of them, no, he would just keep it a secret like the bloody idiotic angel he was. Erik sighed. He would have a chat with the man about that at some other date.

For now… "Emma, I…" he gulped. "I'm sorry about your family. About Anna," she was not surprised he had seen that either. She nodded, sadly, and he saw tears form in her eyes.

"I loved her like my own baby," she whispered. "All I wanted, after she died, was to love someone like that again. To have that bond," she snorted. "I guess I fooled myself into thinking Shaw was giving that to me," he nodded. He knew the feeling.

"You also wanted revenge. Against the humans for what they'd done to her," he pointed out. Emma nodded, a fire kindling in her eyes again.

"I still want it," she growled, banishing her tears with a determined flick of her eyes. "And Erik-I've seen all that he's done for you. I respect him for it but his ideas about humans…They're _wrong_ …"

Erik nodded. "I know."

"So why are we going along with this… Silly bet he made? Why not show him what has happened, what will happen again if we don't…" Erik smiled bitterly.

"He already knows," he told her, effectively making her click her mouth shut with surprise. "He knows better than most. He has had his own bad experiences with humans, Emma, but Charles is not like us. He doesn't want revenge, he wants peace," Emma's face darkened.

"Peace has to be fought for," she stated darkly. Erik was relieved that _someone_ seemed to understand.

"And we will fight for it, but if I can help it… I want Charles on our side. I want him to see that there really is no other choice, and the way to do that is to play the game on his terms, do what he wants for awhile so he can see with his own stubborn, self-righteous, eyes that it doesn't work. All the better for having Raven with us. He'll do anything to keep her safe, even change his mind. It just takes a bit of...Coaxing," Emma nodded, eyes shining with understanding.

"You realize he probably heard you say that, right?" She asked, tapping her forehead to indicate his own. Erik laughed.

"Charles isn't as stupid as you think," he told her with amusement. "He knows perfectly well why I agreed to this. I imagine he has similar ideas about me. Besides, I don't worry about him spying on me anymore; he has some sense of decency…"

 _Erik, you're too kind… By the way, tell Emma that we aren't friends anymore. She gave me away. It took me decades to place those guards without your knowing about them._

His smile grew. Emma cocked an eyebrow. "Decency, huh?"

"Maybe I spoke too soon," he chuckled, actually pleased by Charles's mischief. The man had been all too serious as of late. He looked down at Emma and offered his hand to shake. "So, are you still with me?" he asked. Emma looked down at his hand, debating something for a long moment, before she took it with a squeeze.

"Yes, spicy head," she whispered, stretching to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. Erik's face burned red. "I'm with you," that said, Emma gave him a kind smile before turning curtly on her heel and sashaying out of his room. Erik was disappointed. He didn't necessarily mind her being in there anymore…

Charles was snickering in his mind. _Erik, you sly dog! I knew you two were up to no good in there!_ Eric's face burned even redder as he groaned.

"Charles!" he shouted aloud, knowing that Charles would hear him. " _Shut_ up!"


	19. Chapter 19

"Oh, _come on_ prof! This isn't even fair! Why does Alex get to go but I don't?" Sean whined as he trailed Charles out of the elevator. Alex, waiting by the door with Hank, looked up. His expression was thoughtful, anxious, preoccupied.

He had been so the entire night. Hank had heard him tossing and turning in his bed sheets. By now the entire house knew that his little brother was coming to visit them, and though Charles had given no specifics, it was obvious by Alex's behavior that he was worried.

Cassidy stood close to his side. She had been the most attentive to him that morning, somehow sensing that something was not right. She glanced at Hank, and he saw the question in her eyes. He nodded and stepped forward. "Here," he said, fishing his newest invention out of his pocket.

Alex blinked out of his daze to look down at them. They looked like regular sunshades (probably because that was exactly what they were) but Hank had worked all night on them, tweaking until he was pretty sure that Scott would be able to open his eyes and they would contain the laser beams there. Alex took them gently, and placed them in the bag hanging from his hip. Whatever was in the bag, Hank didn't know. He suspected it was first aid supplies because Cassidy had handed Alex a roll of bandages tenderly, muttering a quick 'here you go,' under her breath.

And, watching as a dark blush spread over her cheeks, Hank had seen Alex bend down to give her a quick but distant kiss on the cheek, muttering a quick 'thanks, angel," which they all still called her on occasion, preferably when she was being nice. Hank had felt a flash of envy deep in his soul, and had looked over to see Raven staring back at him with a similar expression of longing. Then, they had both turned away.

It could never be.

"Thank you, Hank. Just add it to the tab of stuff I owe you for," Alex said sincerely. Hank smiled and punched Alex's arm, awkwardly.

"Hey, its what friends are for, right?" he asked, also uncomfortably. He wasn't good with people. Alex stared at the spot-beginning to bruise-where Hank had punched him, but smiled.

"Yeah," he mumbled, merely. The two boys had stood there then, shuffling awkwardly until Charles calm voice broke into their thoughts.

"Sean, Erik and I found everyone here with little assistance; we will manage to find six more ourselves. Besides, Alex will be back in a few hours," he told him. Sean threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Ah, but prof..!" he whined.

"It won't be as adventurous as you think, Sean," Charles placated him as Erik walked past, carrying their luggage out to the car. "And if it is, I promise to send you detailed pictures through this," he tapped his forehead. "Hmm?" he asked. Sean crossed his arms, pouting, but nodded. Raven, Riptide and Azazel came down the stairs to wish them goodbye, talking.

"Now," Charles speculated as the others joined them near the door. "Who should I leave in charge?"

"Oh, oh, I call it!" Sean cried immediately.

"Cassidy," Charles said a half-second after Sean's display.

" _What_?" Sean demanded, affronted. "No way! Erik," Sean basically lunged for Erik's arm as the other man walked past, carrying the last bag out to the car. "Tell Charles that I so deserve to be in charge!" He cried.

Erik halted mid-stride, giving Sean an implacable look before chiding: "Charles, shame on you! Sean is quite obviously the best candidate to be in charge…"

"Thank you!"

"Of mowing the lawn and seeing to it that all the trees get watered," all but Sean broke into peals of laughter. Charles was at least polite enough to hide his mirth behind one hand. Sean, rather, gave Erik an injured look.

"You're dead to me, Erik," he drawled. Erik gave Sean a small smile before tussling his hair companionably and walking out to get the rest cleared for take-off. Cassidy stared at Charles, eyes wide with surprise. Hank himself was rather surprised by Charles's decision. If anyone should be in charge of the house, why not Raven, Emma, or Hank? Why Cassidy?

 _Although,_ he glanced at the candidates he had just named in his mind. Raven had deserted Charles once and though Hank knew the telepath held no grudge, he was no fool either. Raven would be going as soon as this mission to find and retrieve was done, deserting again. It made Hank's heart ache to know that she found some things-like destruction-more important than the people she cared about. If he could even be counted in that sector anymore.

And though Emma and Charles shared a teasing telepathic/flirting/sibling bickering relationship, she was still unpredictable like a playful wild cat that at one moment would be frolicking about chasing butterflies at your side and the next chewing off your arm. Yeah, putting her in charge might have been a mistake. And himself? Well, Hank was probably not a good option either. After all, Charles had given him his own task while they were away, and Hank was excited to get started. He would need every minute to himself in the lab.

 _Maybe that was a good decision._ He found himself nodding in agreement. Cassidy on the other hand, went on one knee facing Charles at eye level. Her eyes were moist, her face the same cynical mask of sorrow that she had used for every occasion before joining Shaw. "Professor," she gulped."Why? I betrayed you," she gestured to Hank, Sean, Alex, Raven and Erik. " _All of you_ by joining Shaw even after he killed Darwin. You shouldn't… I don't deserve this," her voice wobbled, and Hank saw a tear sparkling in the corner of her eye. Charles wiped it away gently as soon as it fell.

"Perhaps," Charles agreed softly. "But if there is anything that I have learned the past few months, Angel, it is that we all are all wrong on occasion. Sometimes, we are so fantastically wrong that we hurt those around us," he glanced at Raven. She was staring the ceiling intently, pretending not to listen to a word of what was being said.

"It's a part of life, I'm afraid. You made your mistake, yes, but since then have returned. And you've changed. I know. I can tell," he tapped her temple. "You'll take good care of the house, and the children, while I'm away. I know it," he said. Angel's bottom lip puckered, but she nodded a small smile creeping unto her face.

"Thanks, professor," she mumbled.

Charles beamed at her in reply before turning to Alex. "Ready?" he asked. Alex squared his shoulders as if he were going off to war. He gave a single nod in reply. "Very well then, we're off!"

"Charles!" that was Raven, rushing forward as if she had forgotten something. She knelt next to Charles's wheelchair, rapidly whispering something in his ear. Charles listened, smiled, and nodded.

"A splendid idea," he agreed. "And you'll remember the…?" He trailed off, eyes swiveling to Erik, waiting impatiently in the doorway. He cocked an eyebrow, his body language signaling what he would not say aloud. Hank deduced it was something along the lines of 'hurry up, Charles.'

"I will."

"Good. Alright then, behave yourself," Charles gave Riptide, Azazel and Emma pointed looks. "Stay out of trouble," this was addressed to Sean and Raven, who crossed their arms petulantly. "And _please_ , all of you, do not tear each other's heads off," and with that last departing plea-full of faith in their abilities, of course-Charles turned swiftly in his wheelchair, and then the three were gone.

* * *

Scott was certainly bigger than he had been the last time that Alex had seen him, through the dusty windows of their small car. At now twelve years old, he was taller, too, with a head of spiky brown hair and soft brown eyes.

He looked like a shaggy ragamuffin.

But Alex would have known him anywhere. The street corner where they found him was dank, dirty, filled with the tents of other homeless people. Scott was outside of a small tent, pitched with nothing more than fraying blankets and thick polyester. His shorts were hideously grimy, his cheeks smudged with dust and his body covered with it as well. It made Alex's heartache at how clean his own clothes were, how warm he was at night while his brother suffered.

However, it was nothing compared to the rage he felt when they pulled up on the street corner outside of the alley where Scott's tent was pitched. What made his heart rage with fire, though, were the boys surrounding his brother. They looked older than fifteen. Four of them, tall lanky, mouth full of decaying teeth and eyes full of malice. They were shoving Scott back and forth between them, bullies and brutes with nothing better to do. Scott was crying out in fear and helplessness, his eyes shut tightly.

"Open your eyes coward! Open your eyes!" The boys taunted, unaware that should Scott do so their pathetic lives would end. Alex growled deep in his throat and placed a trembling hand on the door handle, about to storm out. Images of smoking bullies filled his mind.

"Wait," Charles ordered from the passenger seat up front, his own eyes narrowed at the scene he saw. Alex did so, reluctantly. "I'll take care of this," he placed his fingers against his forehead, focusing. Alex pushed himself against the window, anxiously watching.

As he did so, he saw one of the boys stop, his back stiffening into rod straightness as he slowly looked up and right at Charles. He cocked his head, as if listening. Alex saw a devious smirk play on Charles lips as the bully then turned towards his friends and raised a fist.

He slugged the one next to him so hard that he fell into the other until a domino effect had them all moaning on the ground. "Ow, man! What the heck?" One of the bullies cried, rubbing his forehead as he glared at his pal.

"This is stupid," Charles's puppet announced. "Let's get out of here," Alex wished Charles would make them hit each other a little more.

"We haven't gotten the baby to open his eyes yet though!" One of the others taunted, grabbing Scot by the scruff of the neck. Scott cried out.

Alex slammed his hands down, enraged. "Charles!" He shouted.

Said person did not seem to hear. "Oh, no you don't," he mumbled, and the one holding Scott suddenly dropped him.

"Oh, man," he mumbled. "I don't feel so good," Charles smirked.

"Go to sleep," he command softly, and as if on cue, the four delinquents collapsed as one, their minds pliant and yielding to Charles's will. The telepath chuckled. "They'll wake up with a headache of a lifetime," he mused, with satisfaction.

Erik snickered. "Like a bad hang-over," he said. Then, he glanced at Alex. "Go get him, kid," he told him softly, but Alex was already getting out of the car. He was walking at first, numb, wondering if he was in a dream for he had fully expected never to see his brother again and then he was running, springing, soaring…

"Scott!" the name was torn from his lips like a prayer full of tears. Scott's head came up, but he did not open his eyes. He just cocked his head, listening.

"A-Alex?" his voice trembled. Alex dropped to his knees before his brother, fumbling in the bag at his hip for the glasses Hank had given him, rapidly speaking as he did so.

"Scott, are you okay?" he didn't wait for an answer, instead searching himself with his eyes for any injures. "I'm so sorry," he babbled. "For everything. Sorry for leaving, sorry this happened, sorry I wasn't here for you. You have no idea how sorry I am. I'll make it up to you some day, I promise. You don't have to forgive me or anything yet if you don't want but-oh, here. Put these on," he slipped them behind Scott's ears rapidly then sat back on his heels, hoping that it worked. Scott hadn't opened his eyes yet. He just stood there, lips trembling.

"Alex?" he asked, again.

Alex nodded, biting his own bottom lip. "Yeah, Scott. It's me. I'm here. Open your eyes for me; bud. The glasses will stop the lasers. A friend of mine made them for you," he said, not even noticing how time and people seemed to have halted around him, frozen by Charles's power.

Scott, still too young to be untrusting completely yet, did as he was told. Alex could not see his eyes behind the thick black glasses covering them, but he knew they were open because a second later, tears of joy slipped from beneath the dark shades. He was not aware of his own crying until he felt an itch on the bottom of his chin.

He smiled. "Better?" he asked.

Scott stared at him for a long moment, in which Alex began to regret ever having spoken, but after that moment was over he felt a warm and heavy body slam into his chest, squeezing the life out of him. Shocked, he could only warp his arms around Scott as his brother cried into his shoulder.

"I missed you Alex," and now he was really crying, wrapping his brother tight in an embrace of guilt and love equal parts.

"I missed you too, bro," he muttered."Missed you too."

When they arrived at a hotel three hours later, they were both grinning from ear to ear. Alex's heart felt free of guilt for the first time since he had left. His brother acted as if he were two times younger, babbling and skipping and laughing gaily. Much to Charles's happiness, Scott harbored no ill-will towards Alex. His heart was not that type to hold a grudge.

Instead the younger mutant had peppered both Charles and Erik with loads of questions once he got into the car and they had driven him to a hotel, where Scott had been able to take a shower and change into new clothes (Which, much to Alex's amusement, Erik had insisted on picking out) and had been more than delighted to find that the three men were also mutants. "I thought I was the only one!" He had cried, grinning. Charles and Erik had exchanged similar looks before Charles turned.

"You aren't alone, Scott," he said kindly. "Not anymore," and the smile that had earned made Alex forgive the prof for not making those brutes hit each other a little more. Promising to find the old woman who had helped Scott, Charles and Erik had left the brothers in the hotel room. Once alone, Alex explained to Scott why he had left and Scott tearfully retold the story of how he had woken up one day, and just by opening his eyes had hurt his aunt!

Both shed tears more than once, (not that Alex would ever admit it) Alex apologized profusely and Scott forgave him repeatedly, before curiously asking where he had met Charles and Erik. _"I heard him in my head,"_ Scott had told him, eyes wide.

 _"When they were bullying me. He told me just to stay still and he would send someone to help me. I was afraid at first, but I don't know,"_ Scott shrugged. _"I guess I felt like I could trust him,"_ and Alex assured him he could.

Then, he told the magnificent story of his new friends waiting at the mansion; about the CIA, Shaw, Hank, Sean and Raven. When he was done, Scot had laughed and hugged him tight around the chest, exclaiming happily: "you're a hero!" which made Alex blush.

When Scott had asked if he were going to stay with Alex, he had asked if he wanted too. Scott had given him a 'why wouldn't I?' look before agreeing that really, Alex couldn't live without him anyway.

So, two hours later when Erik and Charles arrived back at the hotel room, explaining that they had found the old woman and placed her in a prestigious nursing home (courtesy of Charles's bank account). They brought Azazel with them. The red-skinned mutant had actually smiled when Scott jumped out of his seat and rushed towards him, yelling: "you look so _cool_!" and afterwards, he had even seemed happy to see Alex and Charles.

Now, three hours later, after a shy goodbye with Erik, an odd question from Charles "Scott, for the sake of curiosity, what's your favorite color?" which had been green, a sincere thank you from Alex, Azazel had transported them to the lawn of the Xavier mansion. Scott stood next to Alex, his head swiveling back and forth with awe as he studied the grand-and perfectly groomed-front yard.

"This is where we're going to live?" he gasped. A

Alex put a hand on his shoulder as Azazel poofed out of existence, probably landing back in his room in the house. "This is home," he agreed, leading Scott tentatively towards the door.

"And everyone here is…Like us?" Scott wondered hesitantly, unsure. Alex nodded. "Do you think they'll like me?' Scott asked as they descended the steps and landed before the large oak doors.

"Absolutely," Alex promised and eager himself to see his friends, he opened the door and grinned. On the steps, looking friendly and welcoming were his mutant family. Angel was flittering a few inches off the ground, Hank was in full Beast regalia and Riptide was swirling a small hurricane in his hand. Alex grinned when he saw the banner over their heads, written in swirling colors and in Raven's handwriting.

 _"_ _WELCOME HOME!"_

Scott gasped aloud. "This is so _awesome_!" he cried ecstatically, as he fairly jumped at the other mutants who had come down to introduce themselves. Alex stood back, watching with genuine pleasure as Scott threw his arms around Hank. "You made my glasses!" he cried. "Thank you!" Hank looked startled by the exuberant thanks, but he only smiled and Alex saw the thought in his eyes that Scott was not at all afraid of him. Soon his little brother had introduced himself to everyone there, and the large smiles which had taken over everyone's faces temporarily made Alex forget everything but the people in this house, and how he had once feared never to have a family.

Weird enough, as Cassidy flew over and grabbed his arm, squeezing gently, he wasn't afraid anymore. "Do you want to see your room?" Raven asked Scott, her eyes twinkling in a way Alex had not seen since before Darwin died.

"My room?" Scott asked.

"His room?" Alex echoed. They had not even begun the living quarters yet, instead opting to wait until the children actually got there and chose their own…

 _"_ _Scott, for the sake of curiosity, what's your favorite color?"_ of course. Alex did not have to follow the excited procession of mutants up the stairs, following Raven to Scott's room. Instead he sat at the bottom and waited for it.

He heard Scott's scream of delight even from downstairs. "Green is my _favorite_ color!" Scott yelled, laughing. Alex chuckled. "Alex, come see!" Grinning, he patiently went up the stairs to his brother's new room.

And knew that he could never be happier than he was at this moment.


	20. Chapter 20

**_Four weeks later:_**

"Here, slide that bed right here against the window… Good… Alright, I think that's that," Raven said, smacking her lips with self-content. She watched as Hank deftly moved the small bed-covered in a pink quilt with small white flowers embroidered into the fabric- against the wall and grinned. Kitty's pink room was done, and hers was the last one that had been in need of being done.

Now all of the rooms had been decorated in a fashion which Raven hoped the other children would like as much as Scott had liked his forest green room. It was at times like these when Raven was glad to have a telepathic brother. So far over the past few weeks what Charles had done was to send her word whenever he got the favorite color of the next child and a rough mental image of what their dream room might contain based off of their personalities.

Ororo had chosen scarlet, Bobby ice blue, Kitty light pink, Jean sunbeam yellow, and Warren orange. So far, Rouge's had been her favorite, though they had had to scramble together her room at the last moment. Her favorite color was purple, and not lavender, but the royal, dark violet of velvet. Rogue had been a surprise, along with the other mutant that Erik had stumbled upon in a bar.

Logan had been pinning someone to a wall with steel claws, was how the story went when Azazel returned from bringing Charles a new pair of clothes for Rogue and a new shirt for Logan. About two second later Charles had sensed a girl following Logan out of the bar timidly, looking for somewhere to go and a ride to go there, but above all, some company of a person like her. The two had nabbed Logan and Rogue just a few minutes into their journey. Azazel (being the only one to pop in and actually see Wolverine) had insisted upon helping decorate his room himself.

"Simple," was what he said. "Very simple. And with a cooler in it for beer," Raven was unsure about how well Charles would take that, but she had obeyed. She figured Azazel probably knew more than she did. However, with that one repair, all of the rooms were ready for the children to come.

Raven grinned at Hank when he looked p, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "You know, Raven." Hank said, still persisting in calling her that name. "You might have gotten one of the others to do this for you. Say, Sean or Alex?" He wondered and Raven smiled. She knew how much Hank hated to be pulled away from his work, but this had been important.

Or perhaps not so very much. Part of it was just that she wanted to see him. Of course she couldn't say that though. They were both aware that one day, Hank and she might become enemies, estranged by separate beliefs and loyalties to very different men. "I could have," she agreed. "But they're downstairs helping Cassidy with the rest of the house," Raven had to hand it to her; Angel sure did know how to keep order. She had Sean cleaning the outside windows, Riptide doing dishes, Alex and Scott doing yard work, Emma and Azazel cooking and she herself was reorganizing their messy pantry. Raven and Hank had gotten off easy.

"Oh, yeah," Hank scratched the back of his head. "Emma is cooking?" He asked. Raven nodded, already excited for the home cooked meal. Emma had proved her prowess in the kitchen many times, and oddly enough Azazel seemed to come at a close second involving the kitchen.

They were the masters of it therefore; able to create and concoct any manner of meal in half the time it would have taken anyone else to do it. It was mid-day, Raven recalled. Which meant they would be making lunch and snacks. She wondered what it was to be. Hank licked his lips, opening his mouth to ask the same question when Emma's shout rang through the house. It made Raven's insides curl with equal parts nervousness and excitement.

"They're _home_!"

She and Hank both exchanged a look of surprise before dashing for the door in unison. They knew what that meant. Charles and Erik had returned.

With the new students in tow.

* * *

"Erik," that was Kitty again. Erik looked down patiently as he unbuckled her from her booster seat and gently helped her out of the car, aware that his face was expressionless. He saw a flash of large brown eyes staring at him with turbulent trepidation. All of the children seemed to have a special attachment to Charles, but Kitty being the youngest at five, did not mind him either.

She staggered from the car with stubby legs and stood there on the graveled rock, mouth set into an awed line as she observed the castle before her. "This is that place?" She gasped, pulling her small pink back pack closer to her body as if it were a shield. Erik remembered how massive and intimidating the mansion had looked the first time he saw it. He patted her head reassuringly.

"That's it," he told her, wondering at that slight lisp in place from the wiggly tooth in her mouth. He hoped Charles knew what to do when that tooth came out, because he would be the first to delegate the task of bloody tooth to another should the occasion arise. Erik nodded and stepped aside to allow Warren out.

The lanky, solemn ten-year-old with a mop of bright yellow hair was also staring wide-eyed at their new home. The feathers on his wings wiggled in the breeze. Disbelief rolled off him in waves, and it did not escape Erik's attention how he crept closer to him in unconscious fear. Warren had lived in a mansion before this-but it had been his father's and Erik well knew Warren's fear of his father. He patted his head too.

"You'll get used to it," he assured him.

"I dare say so," Charles agreed cheerfully as he wheeled himself around the side of the car. Jean and Ororo, both twelve, tailed him. Bobby and Rogue, the other eleven-year olds, got out beside Erik.

"There are people inside," Jean said in a small voice, as if she was unsure whether she should make her mutation so apparent. Once again, Erik's blood boiled to think that the humans had made these children hide their gifts, or fear themselves or be ashamed of something they had been born with.

"They're the others we've told you all about," he said as Logan, too, stepped out of the car. The older man- (though, in reality Charles said he merely _looked_ old. He was actually a year younger than Erik) –grunted and wrinkled his nose when he saw the mansion.

"Fancy place you have here, Chuck," he told Charles sardonically. "You sure you ain't some government employee?" he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Erik rolled his eyes. He disliked Logan's lack of respect for anything and in particular was not overly fond of how he seemed determined to undermine Charles by not saying his actual name. The telepath, though, took no offense. He just grinned.

"Relatively," he chuckled as Ororo and Jean hung unto the sides of his wheelchair. "My family has just accumulated vast amounts of wealth over the centuries. Dating back to… some point in time. I didn't exactly read the history on it," a flash of something like indifferent anger-kept far from the plane of Charles normal countenance- surfaced. Then vanished like mist when Jean tugged at his arm and pointed.

A few birds sang in the trees around, swooping for worms. The grass smelt like fresh rain, and Sean had taken good care of it. Erik smiled, and felt a bit of his tenseness relax. He felt the same relief floating off of Charles.

 _We're home._

Yes, and Erik decided that it was time that they began moving. Even Logan looked cowed and unsure, having wandered everywhere in the world without end. The children, however, had probably never seen anywhere so grand, and they had so far been staying in cramped hotel quarters with Charles and Erik alone. The change would be strange for them.

He took the first steps, Charles at his side. Like ducklings, the others followed them silently, from the safety of the car to their new home. _I told Emma that they're a bit frightened,_ Charles reported in his mind. _I don't think she was paying me any mind, though. She's quite happy to see you._ It was a struggle to keep the blush off his cheeks and refrain from giving Charles a swift knock upside the head. The other mutant had not let up teasing him about Emma since the day she had arrived, and Erik doubted he would stop any time soon.

He went up the front steps, using his powers to raise Charles up the porch. Ororo helped Kitty up the stone steps. Erik waited until they were all cramped in front of the door before unlocking it with a twist of his fingers and stepping inside.

He cocked both brows and stepped aside, pulling Charles with him when he noticed the homecoming. _The banner is a nice touch,_ he thought as he noticed the multi-colored banner over the heads of the mutants waiting. _Welcome home, indeed._ Scott was almost bouncing up and down in his excitement, held by the firm grip of Alex upon his shoulder. The entire house had filed themselves on the stairs with smiles, or, in Azazel and Riptide's case, devious smirks.

For a moment, there was silence, as the future of mutant kind beheld the first proof of their not being alone. Having Erik and Charles was one thing, but an entire house of people like them? Warren's eyes were trained on Angel's glittering wings, his own quivering. Jean was staring at Emma as if she were an alien.

Then, Kitty frowned as if something confounded her and tugged at Charles's sleeve. "'fessor!" She cried. "She's blue! And he's blue, too!" She informed him, pointing to Hank and Raven. Hank cringed. Raven snickered.

Charles smiled. "That's a good observation, Kitty," he agreed. "Why don't you go say hello to them? They are very nice blue people," he suggested. Kitty stared at Charles as if he had spoken another tongue for a long moment before, setting her face in a stubborn sign of budding bravery she hiked her backpack up and marched over to where Hank and Raven stood. Looking suitably impressed by her bravado, the other children watched her anxiously, as if she were heading into the lion's den.

Kitty stopped before Raven and Hank, both of whom knelt down to her level, watching her curiously. "Hi," Kitty said instantly. "My name is Kitty-or, it's actually Catherine, but I like Kitty more- and I'm this many," she flashed five fingers proudly. Hank and Raven exchanged a glance of supreme amusement. Raven's face had 'she's so cute,' written all over it.

"Well, hello there Kitty. My name is Hank," Hank extended one large finger politely. Kitty shook it enthusiastically. She liked to fancy herself an adult and liked it when others did the same.

"And I'm Raven," a stunning smile that lit up Raven's cat-like eyes. "Welcome home," Kitty shook her finger too before turning around to the others, grinning, and waved them forward.

"Come on!" She said, now fully confident. "They don't bite!" Erik had to restrain an undignified snort of laughter at Kitty's bold declaration. With glances at Charles, who nodded consolingly, the other children then rushed forward like a tidal wave, unsure and eager at the same time. Jean went right to Emma and Warren up to Angel. Logan went at a more leisurely pace, but he was welcomed with just as much liveliness into the jumble of mutant greetings and introductions.

 _Wait for it_ , Charles said in Erik's mind. _Three…Two…One…_ Erik wondered what he was waiting for. Then, he heard it. The inevitable question. "What can you do?" and then a startled shriek as Sean's high-pitched whistle rang through the air and broke a vase. Following shortly after was a controlled laser beam from Alex and Scott, twisting through the air to annihilate a different vase.

Charles sighed. "At least they waited until I returned," he stated with exasperation. Azazel's quick poof of red smoke filled the air as he vanished and reappeared elsewhere, blown away by Riptide's quick swirl of air and Angel's quick flitter of wings. Erik heard the painful crunch of Logan's claws sliding from their spot in his skin. A flash of blue fur and suddenly Hank was walking up the staircase railing with his feet gripping it like hands.

Delighted shrieks of laughter, deep exclamations of wonder and quick claps of admiration filled the air as everyone showed off their ability.

Erik clapped Charles on the shoulder, chest full of warm pride and exhausted pleasure. "I think we picked well, partner," he stated. Charles nodded pleasantly.

"Indeed. The day is yet over though, my friend," he told him. Erik glanced at him questioningly. Charles's smile grew and there was something temperate and happy in his eyes as he beckoned for Erik to follow him. "Come," he told him softly, his eyes still on the swelling family ahead.

"I have a gift for you," undoubtedly interested as to what Charles could have gotten him, and namely _why,_ Erik followed Charles to the elevator and then upstairs, where the sounds of merry-making below were muffled by the floorboards. Without another word, Charles wheeled himself down to where Erik's room was.

"Well," Charles halted outside of Erik's closed door, waving him inside. "Go ahead," Erik gave Charles a strange look, to mask the butterflies of anticipation in his gut before he unlocked the locked door with a clench of his fist and stepped inside.

He gasped.

Though he had been living in it for some weeks now, the room had remained pretty much bare of any decorations or any signals that Erik had ever inhabited it. He had _asked_ for the unembellished room, after all, assuming that he would not be spending more than a few weeks in it anyway. So Charles had given him this dusty chamber with white walls, a bed and a reading table.

Admittedly, Erik had never expected it to change, even as he had secretly yearned for something more… Personalized. However, never having had such a feeling before (he had never remained in one place long enough to want to make a mark on it) he had not mentioned it.

He should have known Charles would feel it.

His room had been _transformed_. It was so very much… _Him_ , that only a man who had been inside of his head would know how right it was. In the place of stark white walls was a light brown the color of wet beach sand. His bed-formerly sprouting his worn travel blanket and sheets- now had a king bedspread of the darkest chestnut color. Erik didn't have to touch the fabric to know that it would keep him warm.

His headboard was a large and twisted metal grate painted golden. It looked like the gnarled roots of some ancient tree. Erik felt his power building inside of him, eager to pinch and twist and turn the metal into separate designs, knowing that he could especially on the nights when insomnia hit or his nightmares blocked him from sleeping. On the other side of his bed was a dresser for his clothes and a globe, fat and silver, for it, too, was metal, perched atop the dresser.

From his window, he could see the satellite dish that had been the tool for one of the proudest moments he had regarding his powers. Next to his bed was a small table. On the table was a bottle of finest French red wine. He chuckled upon seeing that.

"You cunning fox," he murmured in awe, as he turned to see Charles smiling from the doorway. "How did you do all this?" Charles's eyes glinted with mischief.

"Oh, no, dear friend," he wagged his finger at Erik teasingly. "A good magician never reveals all his secrets at once."

"Was it Raven or Emma?"

"Shut up, Erik," he laughed and went back to examining his new living quarters, face stretched into such a smile that it hurt his cheekbones.

But sitting pressed against the opposite wall to his bed was an actual _bookshelf_ , which Erik had not possessed since he was a child. Only a few books sat on the mahogany shelves, but next to it was a plush black chair, sleek and elegant as the footstool sitting at its base. A reading lamp stood like a guardian over the chair, also metal.

Erik's eyes wandered over each new decoration, examining the careful placement of them around the room. Enough room was let for him to pace at will, he noticed, but also for him to sit and relax and think nothing of the world outside. Or perhaps everything for next to his globe was a radio. He smirked. Charles was baiting a tiger with _that_ little piece, but he doubted the other cared much. He liked baiting things.

Eventually, though, his eyes were caught by a glint of something sitting on an empty bookshelf. Erik squinted at it wonderingly. What was…?

It couldn't be.

As if in a trance, Erik slowly felt himself moving forward towards the very familiar, very old object sitting there. He felt Charles quietly wheel himself into the room, watching from a silent and respectful distance as Erik came face to face with it. He would know it anywhere.

A menorah.

The menorah which he had lit with his mother some odd years earlier, before the Holocaust, before the Nazis, before... _Everything._ When he had been a happy and carefree boy beneath the protective love of his parents. Erik felt his eyes sting with tears as he stared at the golden candle holder. He had assumed it destroyed in the raid upon his house. How could it still be?

He reached out, delicately, and touched it; half believing it would crumble to dust when it did. However, the sacred object held firm, sparkling at him as if it knew he was an old friend.

Erik felt a tear dribble down his cheek. He had to swallow the lump in his throat about four times before he could speak and when he did; his voice trembled like a guitar string. "C-Charles," he choked. "You…You…" For only _one_ person knew of that memory, only _one_ person could have possibly retrieved this.

"I hope I'm not being too bold here, Erik," Charles continued for him, tentatively. "I had a friend from Oxford retrieve it for me. He's in Germany now, doing some work or another, and he owes me a favor. Your town is still there. No one lives there and the buildings have been ransacked so many times that it looks like a ghost town, he told me, but he managed to slip inside of the house which used to be yours and retrieve that," Charles nodded towards the menorah in Erik's grasp.

Erik stared at Charles, only half-comprehending the words coming from his mouth. All he could think-all he could _do_ -was remember the Hanukkah's he had spent at home. How those days had been brutally taken from him forever and all memory of his family stolen or destroyed…or so he had thought. Until now. Until Charles found a tiny piece of the boy he used to be and showed it to him, reminded him that once, long ago, he had not been Frankenstein's monster.

So there was chance he might become what he once was again. He could be happy again.

Tears ran steady rivers down his face as Charles went on, disconcerted by his silence. "I know that you don't identify with your Jewish heritage anymore, Erik," he was saying quickly. "I know that your experiences have… _Sucked_ that from you. I know that the Menorah must signify everything you've lost, all the horrible things that were done to you and your people," Charles flinched as memories of other's memories floated through him. Only Charles would know him so well as to already guess what would flash through Erik's mind upon seeing this.

"I know the boy who lit those candles was very different from who you are now. I know it must remind you of your family and those horrible Camps, but… I thought that maybe it didn't have to mean that anymore Erik, it didn't have to be a sign of everything you've lost but everything you've _gained,"_ this novel idea stunned Erik so much that his breath hitched in his chest.

For so long, he had not seen any bit of light in the world, but now he understood that the light of the world had never left; never been destroyed completely. Even if at times, it felt as if it did, as if it always would. As if the fate of man was to destroy the light which they had so graciously been gifted with. It had been tucked away, beaten down and tortured but it had never left. He could only stare, wide-eyed, at Charles as the telepath fumbled for words.

 _"_ And that boy," he gestured wildly to the menorah. "That boy is still inside of you. He's the goodness in you, Erik. His tenacity of spirit, his generosity, his passion and incredible desire to _live_ is still there. He's the best part of you, and I know that you probably won't be spending much time in here from now on, but I wanted there to be a reminder whenever you do come back-a reminder of that goodness, of how _proud_ I believe your parents would be of you, despite whatever wrong you've done," he continued sharply when he saw Erik close his eyes in agonizing shame.

"You've done good too," he insisted, as if he were before a judge and needed to make his case. "For these children, for mutant-kind, for _me._ That menorah represents who you've become, Erik, and I wanted you to have it," Charles crossed his arms defiantly, as if daring Erik to contradict any of what he had just said. Though he was confined to a wheelchair and two years younger than him, Erik had to admit that Charles did have a way of making him feel like a small child again.

And, oddly enough, he was okay with that. Because the small boy he had once been carried the best part of him.

Erik looked back down at this treasured gift, and felt his heart quiver in his chest with gratitude as he slowly set it down and looked around at his room in a house that wasn't even his, done with such care and consideration. With such a permanent air to it. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to reign in his spiraling emotions of gratitude, affection, relief, and joy.

After a few seconds, he gave up on that and opened his eyes to see Charles studying him worriedly. "Erik?" He asked.

Erik blinked. "Why did you do this for me, Charles?" he asked softly. "Why go to all this trouble when… I don't even know if I'll be staying?" his voice cracked and his very soul spasmed with pain at the thought of going. This was, quite irrevocably, his home. These people were his family and leaving-even to save mutant kind-seemed like an impossibly agonizing feat.

Charles's eyes softened as he shrugged humbly. "To thank you," he replied.

Erik was taken aback. "For saving you?" he questioned.

"No," Charles assured him. "As we said; it would have been terribly impolite for you to let me drown. No, Erik, this is a thank you for… Well… Being my friend," a small blush crept up Charles's face as he continued. "I spent so many years locked in this house, a prisoner to my father and my fears," his face darkened as he looked around, and now Erik saw the disgust on his face as he reviewed these walls.

"I went back to England to escape the pain it brought me to be here. It was a symbol of everything I dreaded, everything I had lost. As I knew the menorah would be to you," he nodded towards it. "But now, this house is a symbol of everything I've achieved, of _hope,_ not hate. Part of my mind changing on that was in due to you, believe it or not," and Erik could hardly bring himself to consider it.

"I know we have separate ideals, Erik," Charles then went on, seriously. "I know you probably won't be staying here for very long, but… I suppose I just wanted to show you how grateful I am that you've put up with me this long before you left. And also show you that no matter what we believe or what's happening or," he waved his hand, as if brushing away the torment of excluding factors in their world.

" _Whatever,_ that this will always be your home too. And you will always be welcome in it, no matter what you've done. So there." Charles looked up at him, expectantly. But what could Erik possible say to that? What words could even compare to all of this? He was still as speechless as he had been when Charles first gifted it to him.

"Charles, I don't know what to say…" he admitted.

"Good," Charles seemed reasonably fine with this. "Say nothing. It will prevent you from saying something as mushy as what I've said," he chuckled. Erik shook his head.

"I…"

"Erik," Charles interrupted, with a gentle smile. "I can feel what you feel, remember? I _know_ ," and he very well probably did, but Erik had to say something anyway. His hand went to the Menorah, stroking the very real surface and he _knew._

Erik put the Menorah back where it had been and knelt down in front of Charles. The telepath watched him with eyes that held within them pain and despair of the likes few men ever experienced, but also a cunning and compassion beyond what any man could dream of, including Erik.

"Charles, I can't even begin to say…How much this all means to me," he gestured with his hand to the entire room, the entire house, to his very _existence._ "I don't even know why the hell you're thanking _me_ ," he gasped, with a small snicker.

"The honor of being your friend has always been mine. You've given me a reason to live again, sacrificed _so much_ ," -he glanced at Charles's immobile legs- "just so that I may breathe and I am unworthy of that. I can never repay you, I can't even put into words the impact you've had on me, but no matter what, just… You're my brother, Charles. My best friend, my savior, my _family._ I would do anything for you. I would die at your side ten thousand times should you need it," Erik stared into the eyes which reflected his soul and repeated softly: " _Ten thousand times."_

A tear raced down Charles's face. He stared at Erik with a small, trembling smile. For a moment, the two men simply stared into the other's eyes, the rest of their emotions incommunicable. Finally, Charles asked in a tear-choked voice: "Does that mean you'll let me win at Chess tonight?" Erik blinked once, twice, then burst out laughing.

"I would die for you, Charles," he said sincerely. "But conceding at chess is taking it too far," he corrected. Charles grinned.

"It was worth a shot," he guessed.

They grinned.


	21. Chapter 21

**_A week later:_**

"FALL BACK!" Erik commanded his troops in a hoarse scream, past the stinging winds of the African desert. When the others did not move, instead opting to stare at him with wide eyes, Erik did not blame them. This was not something they would expect _him_ , of all people, to yell during a battle, of all things and of all places. After all, everyone knew Erik's supreme hatred of any kind of falling back was supreme. He hated surrender more than he hated humans, which was saying something.

Indeed, this was the first time since they had arrived that Erik had yelled it. Though, when the said enemy was suddenly obscured, shiftless like eroding snow in the sandstorm that was blinding everyone, well, the rules had to be changed.

This quintessential principle of survival promoted Erik, then, to take the unconventional way. Hey, he had learned through experience that survival trumped glory most days. Glory was nice, but survival was just downright _spectacular_.

With a roar of determination, he created a giant shield with the metal in his possession already. He heard small grains of desert sand smack against the surface, along with bullets that rocketed past. Emma appeared from the side, gasping for breath and coughing on the heat as she slammed herself next to him behind the shield.

"Hello again, handsome," she greeted, spreading her mouth in an expression similar to a grin. Erik gave her his most charming smile and a wink. He still admired Emma's capacity to mercilessly tease him in any given situation.

"It is _hot_ ," he griped in response. He glanced up at the merciless sun, wondering how he had ever let Charles talk him into doing this for an entire year. It was at least ninety degrees out. Way too hot for him to be using metal, and way, _way_ too hot to be doing anything but sipping a martini. Erik had grown up in mild conditions. Emma read the thought.

"I tried to warn you," he sent her a furious glance as the others all ran behind the shield, ushering the young adults and children they had rescued from slavery past towards the refugee camp.

Behind Erik were the few rebels they had scavenged from desert hide-outs, shooting back at the slavers from behind unstable dunes. The ones who did not want to see their children sold away on the slave market, never to be seen again except in a pen. Working with humans was not Erik's favorite activity, but already he had learned that in this game; one did what was necessary to win.

For now, they were necessary.

"Don't you have slavers to take down, _diamond head_?" Emma scowled at the horrible nickname; given to her at the last second by Raven, who insisted that while in public, none of them use their actual names. Giving him a look of pure malice, Emma tuned tightly on her heel. Her skin sparkled in the light as she crystallized and then she was gone, firing past the others into the fray where the bullets bounced harmlessly off her skin.

He snickered when he heard cries of pain from the enemy, and the fight was over. The rebels behind the sand dunes let out small cheers as they saw their own enemy retreating back into the desert, Erik sighed and allowed his metal shield to fall as he, too, ducked behind a dune.

Now, if only Storm were here so that they could end this infernal sandstorm. For _goodness_ sakes… "Azazel!" He called, covering his eyes as he ducked, curling into a tight ball to avoid sand getting into his clothes. Sand got everywhere, he had learned. Into every crack and crevice imaginable and then it _stung_ , like little hornets pricking his skin with their stinger backsides. Right now it was focusing on getting into his ears and nose. It was _irritating_.

The red-skinned mutant appeared next to him in a blur of red smoke. The rebels only glanced up. After a week of fighting at the side of their mutant team, they were well-used to his sudden appearances by now. "How are the children?" Erik asked. Azazel's mouth thinned, seemingly unaffected by the thousands of grains of tiny sand particles that were driving Erik mad.

"Some are injured very badly," he reported somberly. "Most are alright, but starving. We have to get them food," Erik very well knew what it was to be starving. He nodded in agreement.

"Send Emma, Mystique and one of the rebels to get something from the market a few miles away," thanks to Charles's money and Erik's resourcefulness, they had more than enough money to buy whatever they needed.

"Oh, I see how it is!" That was Emma herself, jumping over the dunes while spitting sand out of her mouth. "Send the _women_ to do the chores! Why don't one of you men go, huh?" She demanded, despising all insinuations of feminine obedience to males. Erik sighed. He did not have time to argue.

"Fine, send _Riptide_ and Mystique to the market," he had wanted Emma to go so that she might know if they were being duped, and to negotiate the price down by means of telepathic influence if she must, but thinking of it, he would need her help to calm the children. After a few weeks of expecting to be sold on the slave market; they needed help rehabilitating into their role as free people again.

Or for the first time, some of them.

One of the native rebels suddenly shot to his feet, letting out a string of alarmed statements as he pointed over the horizon. Emma stared at him for a moment before paling. "Magneto…" she said, slowly standing to her feet. Erik did not need the rest of the statement to know what was happening. He grabbed Azazel and shoved him to his feet as the ground rumbled with incoming tanks. He would take care of them.

In a sandstorm, too. How had Charles talked him into this again?

"Tell Wolverine to get his ass up here and help me! Then get those kids out of here!" he ordered before turning fresh on his heel and running headlong into the blinding sandstorm.

* * *

"Moira! Hey!"

Charles was just exiting the elevator when he heard Hank's shout of happiness echo through the house. He smiled as the elevator came to a stop at the bottom and Charles wheeled himself into the front of the house happily. He had been outside a moment before, watching from the back deck as Angel taught Warren how to fly. He wanted to be there when the boy did, just as he had been with Sean.

Then he had sensed two weary people at the door and hurried down to greet them. He appeared behind Hank just as the other mutant turned around to call for him. Charles grinned, relief and joy flooding through him at the sight of his two friends. Michael and Moira stood there, smiling. Charles looked past them to the wide lawn, the lawn he had studied until memorized as a child. He knew what leaf fell where and when. Everything seemed alright. Although, appearances could be deceiving, and though it was rude of him, he had to ask it for the sake of all in the house. "Were you followed?"

Fortunately, Moira understood his view. She shook her head definitely. "No. I made sure we weren't. May we come in?" Charles let a smile take over once again as he wheeled himself backwards, laughing when Michael remarked that he seemed to be getting around faster in that wheelchair than the rest of them.

"All thanks to you, my friend," he said as Hank took Moira and Michael's rumpled jackets for them, nodding. "You both must be tired. You can rest here for a few hours, if you'd like," he offered, feeling the waves of exhaustion and stress rolling off both of them. Moira and Michael exchanged an unsure, worried glance. Charles felt a shiver of fear.

They had come to tell him something.

"Your message can wait," he told them both firmly. Moira's head snapped around, as if wondering how he knew they had a message. Then she remembered and shook her head at him.

"You and your magic tricks, Charles," she pretended to sigh in exasperation. Charles chuckled. Michael only smiled wearily.

"For now, both of you are dead on your feet. Please, allow Hank to show you to the guestrooms. I'll send up some food. You can tell us later," Charles was suddenly glad that he had let Raven talk him into keeping at least three of those open, just in case. The thought of his sister brought an unwanted shiver of apprehension down Charles's spine. He had no idea where she was right now. Last he had seen her had been a week earlier when Hank unveiled _The Blackbird._ The jet that Chares had commissioned had been ready just in time for the other mutants takeoff.

That jet could take them around the world in a few hours, Hank had promised. And that was what Charles was worried about. Where in the world were they now? What dangers were they facing?

True, he could always find them with Cerebro if he chose, but half of him was afraid of what he would discover if he did that. He would see what madness he had bribed them into, what dangers he had led them towards.

 _You're afraid of the truth,_ he chided himself. _It was your idea._ _The least you can do is…_ "What do you think they've come to tell us, professor?" In his thinking, Charles had not noticed Hank show Moira and Michel up the stairs to guestrooms, order Sean to bring them some food-quietly, Sean- and return to his side, his expression thoughtful.

Charles looked up and extended his hold to probe at the minds upstairs. He was glad when he felt that both of his friends were fast asleep. "They've come to tell us the status quo on mutant/human relations," he said with sureness. He had deduced that from Michael's mind already. Hank bit his bottom lip worriedly.

"Should I get the others?" He asked.

Charles thought for a moment. He did not want to worry the entire house over outside affairs, and yet… This was their species too, and mutant/human relations coincided directly with the bet he had made with Erik. If these humans would not be persuaded in a year, his friend would find his own way and their family would be split. Finally, Charles nodded. "They deserve to know," he conceded.

Hank nodded, glancing up the stairs. "Okay. Let me know when they wake up, and I'll get everyone together," he requested. Charles nodded and watched as Hank walked away, probably back to his lab where he was still working on a cure for Charles's legs. The boy was a dear one, but undeniably naïve.

 _As naïve as I was once._

He sensed a presence. Charles chuckled and turned around fast enough to make Jean, Ororo and Scott jump, caught. He cocked a brow at them teasingly as they all snickered. "Children, children," he tsked. "You should know better than to try to sneak up on _me_ ," he told them.

"I almost had it though, didn't I?" Jean asked timidly. "I masked our presences pretty well, right?" Before Charles could say anything Scott spoke up.

"Of course you did, Jean! I mean it took the Professor like fifteen seconds to know we were here!" he cried enthusiastically. Charles's heart warmed. These children were perhaps the only thing keeping him sane. He suspected this was how many parents felt. Not how _his_ had felt, perhaps, but most.

"He has a point, Jean," Charles said. "You _are_ getting better. I would focus on one person for now, though," satisfied with that, Jean's emerald eyes sparkled and she nodded.

"Okay, thanks professor," she said. She turned to Scott. "Want to be my practice dummy?" She asked, with a smile. Scott clapped a hand to his heart dramatically.

"I would be honored," he quipped, with the same wit as Sean. Jean grinned and the two went off together to practice Jean's telepathic ability, talking and laughing. That left him with Ororo.

The dark-skinned girl stood before him quietly, her very aura like that of the silence before the storm. She was calm, collected, passionless son the outside but inside he knew she had a whole hurricane of emotions flying through her. Anger, pain, fear, the only emotion that hadn't yet tainted her was despair. Charles was glad. It meant that she would keep fighting until the emotions no longer controlled her but she controlled them. He smiled.

"Hello there," he greeted pleasantly. Ororo bowed her head; eyes trained on his face as if she half suspected he was some ancient deity and just wasn't telling her.

"Hello Professor," she had a lyrical, quiet voice. "I've been practicing too," she assured him as if there was any doubt.

"Oh, have you now?" She nodded. "Well, have you also been having _fun_?" a light shined in her eyes as she nodded shyly. "I'm glad. Here, why don't we take a walk in the garden and you can tell me about your day so far," he suggested kindly. Ororo nodded eagerly. Though she didn't say much on a daily basis, Charles was working on getting her to open up and _trust_ him.

It would make it easier to calm those raging emotions within her, and then she would be able to do more than just flash lightning in her eyes and make the sky darken. She had a power inside of her that was so immense it could collapse countries… Or save thousands of ailing lives.

Charles intended to teach her not to hate her burden of power but embrace it and believe in herself. _Mutant and proud_ , he thought, with an ironic smile. He then led Ororo into the brightness of the garden modeled after Hampton Court, listening to her lyrical voice tell him the story of her day.

* * *

Moira was not often shocked. She was a CIA agent, it was her job to be nosy and find things out. It was her job to know and not be shocked by whatever may come at her because CIA agents never were.

But this was Charles, and Moira challenged any agent of anywhere not to be shocked by him on a daily basis.

True, it was not so much that he started a school that he started it so _fast._ Eating dinner with the mutants had been one of the greatest experiences in Mora's life, and dearly needed. Which is why she suspected Charles woke them up for it. After having slept for most of the day however, Moira had not complained. She had been more rejuvenated than she had for a long time, and could see in Michael's eyes that he felt the same.

That spark of energy had increased when she walked into the dining room and was promptly greeted by Kitty laying their utensils down at the table. "You sit _right_ there," Kitty had dutifully informed them, her job being to seat everyone comfortably. She put Moira's fork in place, patted it so that it was parallel to the fork on the other side of the table, and moved on.

Then Jean had appeared, smiling at them shyly, and began to slowly levitate their plates to the table. Moira had clapped, overjoyed by the feat. A _telekinetic_. Of course Charles would find one. When Bobby brought their cups, gently blowing on them-which ended in a thin layer of ice forming on the inside of the cup that lasted until the end of the meal- then Angel had flittered inside with food in one hand, followed by Hank, Alex and Sean carrying in the rest.

Charles had sat at the head of the table, his eyes temporarily flicking to the seat at his right hand, where Moira knew just by the glance, would be where Erik was supposed to sit if he were there. She did not ask where he was. The others had seated themselves, and introduced themselves as well. Then the next hour had been filled with stories from Charles, Hank and Alex on the going on's of the mutants since Moira and Michael had last seen them.

 _Life,_ was the word which came to Moira's mind now, as she waited in the (what the heck was this place? She called it the carnation room because of the white flower on the wall) room Hank had shown them for Charles to come back from tucking the children in. _This house is full of life. Before, it was slightly empty, now its full, and Charles…_ She chuckled and nudged Michael. He had been smiling, tacking unto her thoughts.

"He would make a wonderful father," Moira said aloud. Michael nodded, his eyes shining.

"I agree. Did you know about any of this? You didn't seem too surprised by it," he observed. Moira laughed.

"No, I was, but I had never put teaching past Charles. The others are doing just as well. They're beautiful people," and that was the reason that Moira had spent the past however many days trying to negotiate with people who understood neither democracy nor fairness. She had exhausted herself with it.

Michael's face suddenly darkened as he leaned in closer. "Where do you think Erik is?" he whispered. Moira scowled. Her stomach clenched.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I didn't think he would leave…" After seeing the bond that he and Charles shared, she hadn't believed it possible for Erik to leave the telepaths side. Perhaps she had overestimated his fondness for Charles though.

"Well," that was Angel, fluttering inside with a yawn. "After reading Kitty two bedtime stories, I'm sleepy myself," she was telling Alex as they walked in. Alex nodded, flashed Moira a grin and shook Michael's hand.

"It is good to see you guys again," he told them sincerely. Moira grinned back.

"You too. It's been too long," she glanced at Angel. "I'm glad you decided to stay here Cassidy," she told her, having heard the story at dinnertime. Cassidy gave a small incline of her head, eyes kind.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," she admitted.

"Thank goodness," Charles agreed, as Sean wheeled him in. "We couldn't do any of this without her," Cassidy blushed and sank down on the couch next to Alex.

"What about me, Charles?" Sean pouted, crossing his arms as he stopped Charles in between the couches, plopping down next to him so that they could listen to Moira.

"You're invaluable to me too, Sean," Charles assured him.

"Is that why you let Erik push me off a satellite dish?"

"Of course." The two tricksters-for Charles was one at heart-exchanged grins of hilarity before returning their attention to Michael and Moira. "Alright, everyone is here," Charles said with a nod at her. "What's been happening?" Moira sighed, leaning back against the softness of the couch with arms crossed. She gestured for Michael to begin. It was giving her a headache just to think about what was currently happening. Michael picked up as if _he_ were the CIA agent.

"Congress has begun discussing an anti-mutant campaign," he said, getting right to the heart of the matter.

"On what grounds?" Hank demanded.

"The ground of you all being threats to society, is the statement," Michael retorted crossly. "Really, the only thing stopping Congress from declaring all out war is the fact that they cannot decide whether you all are isolated events or widespread. If you're isolated events, the theory is that they could just round you up and exterminate you," the air suddenly went still and hung heavy as if the unified inhale of shock had permeated the very atmosphere. Moira closed her eyes, a sick feeling in her gut as she remembered how casually extermination had been brought up in the legislative court. As if these were cockroaches instead of people.

As if they didn't matter.

She opened her eyes to see Angel and Alex's faces had darkened with something akin to hatred, Sean's expression was one of fearful worry, Hank looked shocked and Charles had the expression of a man who had been brutally betrayed by an old friend. She was so ashamed of her species in that moment.

"If you're widespread…Well, that's where they are at odds with the right course of action to take," Michael told them.

"It wouldn't be such a problem if someone had not released footage of our fight on Cuba to every other government in the world," Moira met Charles's wide eyes. "Everyone knows, Charles," she told him apologetically. Charles let out a slow breath through his clenched teeth. She saw his fingers wrap around the arm of his wheelchair in a tight fist of anger and concern before letting go.

"We can't give up," he said resolutely, strength sparking in his eyes. The other mutants stared at him, their own eyes filled with uncertainty. But deeper than that was trust in the man before them. Charles looked up at them with gears turning behind his eyes. "Was there anyone sympathetic to your pleas?" he asked calmly. Moira shrugged.

"A few of the senators. Only the ones who have less influence," she said. Charles nodded, and he leaned forward, lips pursed.

"This might prove to be a damper in our plans," Alex pointed out, glancing between Hank and Sean. The boys nodded. Moira perked up, eyeing Charles hopefully.

"Plans?" She asked. Charles gave her a sheepish smile and Moira got the distinct feeling that she was not going to like this plan. _What have you done now, Charles?_ She internally groaned.

"Well, we came up with a…" Charles trailed of as the rest of the mutant population currently present gave him a firm glare. He cleared his throat and began again. "Actually, _Erik and I_ made a bet which is in effect right now. One which is meant to help relations between mutants and humans," Charles sheepishly explained.

"That's great!" Michael cried, brightening. "Though, I wouldn't have taken you for a betting man before Charles. What are the terms?" Charles cringed at the keenness in Michael's voice. Moira was getting a distinctly bad feeling about this.

"You've noticed that Erik isn't here?" Hank broke in impatiently. Moira and Michael nodded. "That's because he took the others-meaning Raven, Emma, Azazel, Riptide and Logan- to wherever in the world humans need them most," now Moira was really confused. Erik was helping humans?

"Charles is controlling him, isn't he?" She demanded, suddenly hit by the idea. The telepath threw up his arms in exasperation.

"Why does everyone assume that I'm some sort of egomaniac who goes round brainwashing people?" he huffed.

"Basically," Hank went on, ignoring his mentor's outburst. "The bet is this: They will act as superheroes for the humans for an entire year; and if in a year nothing substantially good happens in the mutant/human relationships, then Erik can go off and dominate the world and Charles won't stop him. However, if something does happen, Erik will have to settle down and try things Charles's way," Michael blinked rapidly for a few minutes, his brain sluggish to catch up with the implications of this bet.

Moira, on the other hand, surged to her feet, mouth dropping open in shock. "What?!" She cried. "A year? Whose idea was this?" The pointed looks of both Sean and Alex were answer enough. Charles gave them both dirty looks.

"Charles!" Moira raged. "Are you crazy?"

"I thought you had noticed."

"A year is not nearly enough time for any kind of bonding or helping or anything to happen! _Ten years_ wouldn't be enough time!" She hissed, irate that Charles had so flippantly made a horrible bet.

"Even with Erik and the others proving that mutants aren't bad?" Cassidy inquired helplessly. Moira shook her head, balling her hands in her hair. Michael groaned.

"It might do some good, but not nearly enough to sway the opinion of anyone in power. People are _scared,_ Charles, not ignorant! More shows of brute power will _not_ influence anyone!" She sank back unto the couch and buried her head in her hands as images of a now sure future raced before her eyes. People being rounded up and carried away to experiment labs and horrible graves. _Another_ genocide.

"What about a different display then?" Moira looked up at that. Charles appeared to be deep in thought, his sapphire eye narrowed with concentration as he stared at her. He did not look at all as worried as she imagined he should have been. His polite calm was aggravating. Michael answered for her.

"What?" he asked, rubbing his forehead.

Charles pursed his lips in thought. "The idiom 'actions speak louder than words' comes to mind right now," he then went on, as unceremoniously as if they were discussing the weather over tea. "I always believed it to be false. A _combination_ of actions and words are a sure way to deliver a message. Everything is good in moderation," he went on, as if to himself.

"What are you talking about?" Sean asked, looking positively puzzled.

"What if someone were to speak _for_ the mutants, _to_ the mutants? You're right, Erik's actions are noble, but they can be interpreted the wrong way, or just plain ignored. Words on the other hand have to be acknowledged, have to be rebutted," Charles's eyes sparked with daring intellect. "Words have to be _heard._ Moira, can you get me to Oxford?" he wondered.

Moira was taken aback by the speedy request, especially when she had no clue what the heck he was talking about. "I could if you told me why," she replied.

"I'm going to be the other side of the equation," Charles told her, as if it were the simplest thing on earth. "Actions and words. Erik and the others are busy proving by actions what mutants can do. I believe that I can help," something clicked in her head.

"By what? Giving speeches?" Charles grinned.

"Raven did always say I'm best at lecturing. Besides, there is a limit on what I can do physically," he glanced down at his legs, sadly. "But I can speak my mind. That is a power of itself. I can call the thousands of mutants out there from hiding. Encourage them to show themselves and what they can do…"

"Now I know you're crazy," Moira interrupted. "Charles, you'd be asking them to risk their lives, their families, their reputations! You'd be asking them to risk _everything_ , and for what?" The light in Charles's eyes had dimmed upon the reminder of what exactly coming out of hiding detailed, but it ignited again when she asked that.

He squared his shoulders. " _Equality,_ Moira. A world where _all_ men are created equal," he whispered, and he said it like it was a sacred thing. As if he had only ever tasted it rarely. "Freedom. Freedom from fear, from prejudice, freedom from persecution. The inalienable right of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Ideals yes, but ideals for which men have fought and died before. Why not again?" Moira stared at him, still in a state of shock.

"You sound awfully like Erik, Charles," Hank pointed out, breaking the passionate silence.

"He's rubbed off on me," Charles admitted. "Beyond that though, I _must_ do something," he met each eye in the room. "If what you say is right, Moira, then Erik has already won the bet. I am not willing or ready to give up on humanity so quickly though. We can have peace, but we must fight for it," he met her eyes; his own sapphire orbs glowing with some…Ethereal presence which made Moira do a double-take. She had never seen such a look of bland nobility in any mortal's eyes before. Then again, she assumed that the telepath had seen into the hearts of many noble men.

He was bound to learn something from them.

She sat there for a long moment, thinking. Though a bit unsteady, Charles's plan was not a bad one. "You would become a public figure," she speculated out loud. "A beacon of hope for the mutants, and a symbol of peace for the humans."

"People love their martyrs," Michael also added.

"You can teach the humans not to be afraid, like you taught us," Sean volunteered his opinion. Charles smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

"As we taught _one another_ ," he corrected.

"Meanwhile, Erik and the others will be living proof of your claims that mutants can be productive members of society. That our powers can be used for good. And if more mutants answer your summons…" Hank was thinking now too. Good. Moira looked at Charles as he watched them all wrap their minds around the idea, and she was struck by something.

He seemed to have... Changed. Just in that swift moment of decision; he had changed. Not physically of course, but something in his demeanor was like that of some banished hero who had just returned, like she assumed Odysseus looked at his homecoming after long travels. Moira sighed, the noise cutting through the sudden excited chattering of all in the room. They turned to her; as if her own demeanor had changed. She met Charles's eyes.

"You know that if you do this; you will become a target?" She asked softly. "That you will be going up against the prejudice of every government in the world? Governments," she added, as an afterthought. "That will want you dead?" Alex and Sean paled. Cassidy's eyes looked wet. Hank gulped audibly. Charles did not smile. He merely gave a single nod of acceptance.

"There are some things," he told her, just as softly. "That are more important than our own lives," and he knew that she understood that. Moira smiled, as pride and fear floated somewhere between her heart and soul, unsure which direction to take.

"Well, alright then Charles Xavier," she agreed. "You might want to start compiling your first speech, because we leave in a week."


	22. Chapter 22

**_A week later:_**

To be back in the halls of Oxford was… Odd. Not unpleasantly odd, no, but very irregular. Already he had seen several of his old professors, all of whom had expressed shock and sympathy (it was rather irritating, really) to find him suddenly bound to a wheelchair.

Charles had been forced to configure a false account of how he had been in an accident in the states which confined him to the chair just to escape their stifling consolations. He was not here to be consoled. He was here to address the issue which, he could tell, swirled through the whispering halls of the University already. The word _mutant_ was on everyone's minds, thought with a confusing mixture of disbelief and fear.

Many did not even believe that mutants existed, that the pictures on television were merely conjured by the government to scare the public. For what reason, no one could figure, but that was beyond the point. Others were afraid of this development, checking their own skins as if to make sure that they appeared as they always had; as if mutation were some kind of new disease spreading about.

 _This will be harder than I thought,_ Charles considered ruefully as Moira wheeled him into the lecture hall. Some seats were already filled, and Charles saw several old friends wave at him. He waved back, heart thudding in his chest. It had taken no time at all for Moira to contact the CIA. Though she had not specifically named who the equipment was for, she had somehow managed to convince whoever was in charge at that place that she needed time off in order to protect a very valuable target.

She had thence appointed herself his honorary body guard. Charles glanced at her. She was not wearing anything that would mark her as threatening, but he knew that sheathed in her boot was an army knife, beneath her left breast was a gun and her hair was tied up in a cleverly concealed handcuffs.

He had to give her points for thoroughness. Alex and Sean had begged to come with him for protection reasons as well, but he had convinced them to stay at the school with the children _. "No matter what happens,"_ he had told them firmly. _"Those children are the future of this world. They must be cherished, taught, concealed. Let no one know where you are,"_ for if he was a target, he could only imagine what a school of mutants would be.

 _Then again, as of right now, no one knows that I am a mutant._ Footage of Charles had not made it into the televisions, so for the moment he was safe. That was about to change though. His speech would reveal all.

Then, there would be no stopping anyone who wanted him gone.

His heart was hammering in his chest. After so long of hiding who he was-not exactly like Raven and Hank had too, but hidden nonetheless- the thought of being perfectly, undeniably exposed made him feel physically ill. _Remember, equality. Equality. You promised Joseph_. His substitute father had been on his mind often lately.

He only hoped he could do good by his memory.

"Charles?" he looked up to see Moira kneeling by his side, offering a water bottle. Her brown eyes were oft with kindness. He took the drink with a nod of thanks. "Are you ready?" She asked.

Charles smiled tremulously. "No one is ever ready for these things, Moira," he informed her. "And if they are-then they're the real freaks," she snickered softly and patted his shoulder.

"I have faith in you," well, that didn't help him. Now he would feel doubly as bad if he muddled it.

"I don't understand," he huffed agitatedly, watching as the seats gradually filled with students, professors, professionals. Intelligent people- _friends-_ who would think him either mad or a monster. "I've given dozens of speeches in this very hall. They always invited me to do that sort of thing. Why is this any different?" Moira gave him a look which said 'you know quite well why,' and he nodded, taking another quick gulp of water. Charles glanced sideways.

"Is he..?" he trailed off. Moira understood what he was trying to say, and pressed a finger to the earpiece in her right ear, listening for a moment before nodding confidently.

"He's safely inside, awaiting your cue," good. That took a load off Charles's shoulder.

"Charles!" he turned, forcing himself to smile at one of his old professors, his English one he remembered. Professor Jones was a kind and funny man, with a head of raven black hair and deep brown eyes. "We're all ready, if you'd like to begin," he offered, waving a student in. The young man was pulling after him a microphone, tripping awkwardly over the long wire.

He came in, irritation rolling off him in waves. Charles grinned, wondering if his old professor was having the poor chap do this as some kind of punishment. He wouldn't put it past him. H took the microphone with a nod of thanks, quickly smoothing the irritation I the young man's mind into a less volatile emotion. It would do no good for him to fail at that already.

"Very well. Thank you old friend," why hadn't his voice wavered yet? His heart was still thudding against his chest after all. His old teacher grinned proudly and briskly walked to take his seat. Moira squeezed his shoulder.

"Good luck," she whispered before rushing to the side where several people had already crowded in to hear the renowned Oxford prodigy alumni speak on mutation. Charles hoped not to disappoint them. He tapped at the microphone first, testing it, and then cleared his throat.

 _This is for you, Joseph._

"Friends," he started as the people around quieted. The air was light with academic curiosity. Charles inhaled deeply, trying to find his center. What was it Hilda used to tell him over and over? Self-control was the key. If he was afraid, he could not show it. "Comrades," his voice softened. "Brethren," he addressed them all.

"I know you are wondering what the topic of this speech will be. I know you have been told by my old professors-who spoiled me, as I know they do you- of the trouble I caused them," some rippling chuckles. He smiled. "And they are not exaggerating. For I am Charles Xavier, and this time, I do not intend to keep you long. And any trouble I may cause may be added to my record," if only he knew how serious he was. Thank goodness they didn't.

Because then they wouldn't let him open his big mouth.

"I graduated from this university a scant few months ago," a growl of loathing swept through the crowd, Mace continued proudly. "I studied biogenetic mutations. It was more of an obsession, really. I know these accomplishments mean little to those who look upon me now, but I say it because there is a deeper reason for my obsession," a silence.

"These past few weeks, a secret has been revealed that will drastically change our world as we know it. Mutants. I know several of you are skeptical about their existence, as is common for the gifted of mind. However, I assure you, mutants are very real. You're all one yourselves," he steepled his fingers together, wishing very much that he could pace.

"The same changes which took us from being single-celled organisms to Neanderthals, then to advanced homo sapiens are the same changes which are accelerating us towards a new future. Humanity is _evolving,_ my friends," he saw a few scientific ones brighten, overjoyed by the idea of new frontiers. Others remained skeptical. Most looked downright terrified. His mind told him terrified was a bit of an understatement.

"However, what science says is progress, society says is a curse. I am here today to stand for the ideals which this country was founded upon: the idea that all men are created equal. Fearing the men next to you for something that happened to his DNA during conception is a problem we have faced before. That problem ended in the deaths of thousands of people. Am I alone in never wanting it to happen again?" Several people shook their heads. Some exchanged doubtful glances, unfooled by his passionate appeals to their pathos. Charles inwardly cursed. He couldn't stand reasonable people. They were so _logical._

 _"_ _What does this have to do with us?"_ An unspecified voice asked in the caverns of his dubious mind. Charles was impressed. He had expected more comments of this type by now, and this one wasn't even aloud yet. He felt Moira's encouraging thought. _You're doing well, my friend, keep it up._ He didn't feel as if he was doing well.

"So I have a secret to share with you: the reason for my obsession with biogenetics and mutation," Charles finally got to the point he had been leading up too. He took a deep breath, and for one of the first times in his life, allowed his heart to speak. It was difficult.

"When I was nine years old, I began hearing voices in my mind. I thought I was going insane. Then at twelve, I discovered that the voices I thought were burgeoning signs of my mental insanity were really in everyone else's mind. I discovered that I was telepathic. A mutant," gasps resonated around the room. He saw Moira tense, her hand going towards the gun hidden away in her shirt. But Charles was not worried about _that,_ he was worried about what he was about to do next.

Charles reached out, and with relative ease, touched the minds of everyone present. _I was terrified of my gift at first,_ he continued, telepathically. He saw wide eyes, and more than a few students fainted. Other jumped up, looking around as if searching for the deity who spoke to them. When they realized it was his voice, he felt all eyes burrowing into him.

His face burned. It was like London all over again, only this time he had control of his powers. So Charles poured his emotions out-little by little so as not to make anyone burst into tears- his loneliness, his anger, his confusion. Letting them understand what it was to be a mutant.

 _I didn't understand what was happening to me, or why I had been cursed with this remarkable ability. It is the feeling which all mutants know intimately. When I came to the university, I came seeking answers_. A shiver wet down Charles's spine as he felt incredulous shock from his professors. They had never known.

 _I found them, and with answers came an acceptance of who I was, and my place in this ever-changing world._ _However there are still mutants out there hiding, terrified of who they are and how they will be treated, confused about what is happening to them and how to control their powers._

"I want them to come forth," his voice echoed as he continued his speech aloud. His audience jumped, looking a bit dizzy at the sudden change in communication. "Out of the shadows, and embrace themselves exactly as nature declared them to be. Different but not demons. After twenty-one years, I'm tired of hiding who I am. I imagine they are too, but in order to escape this existence we must work together! All of us! _Everyone_!"

His father would be turning in his grave of he could hear Charles now. "Yet I also do not want anyone who is not a mutant to be afraid. I know that this is a scary prospect for anyone to handle. Change is always terrifying, and I do not expect immediate peace between humans and mutants. All I ask is that you _try,"_ that was all anyone could ever ask of them. _Success_ was too large a burden to bear.

 _"_ Try to remember that the mutants who will come forward are still the same people you've always known. Your brothers and sisters and friends! Remember that no matter what boat we were born into, the sea is thrashing us in the same direction. We will either float together or sink together,"

 _"_ _I would do anything for you. I would die at your side ten thousand times should you ask. Ten thousand times."_

Erik's memory gave him strength. He raised his voice as a passionate fire swept through him, cooling his skin and enflaming his soul. "We all want the same thing: peace. Some of you will look for it by seeking wisdom and tolerance, some of you will seek knowledge and strength through combat. It doesn't matter what you _do_ after this or what you _did_ before it, what matters is what _we_ will do to get through it!" He saw Moira smile from the corner of his eye.

"It will be hard. There are horrible people out there, mutant and human alike. Our journey will be long; our tensions strong; this fight will take patience and understanding which is a decidedly hard thing to get nowadays," He was on a roll. The crowd was silently captivated, hanging off his shouts as if they held within them the secret of the galaxy itself. Perhaps he did.

"But know that none of us-mutant or human- are fighting for ourselves or our own ambitions. No, we fight for _equality_ and freedom! Fight for your dreams, and your children and your family and friends and the hopes _you_ have for the world! It doesn't matter why or for what, it matters that we do it together because that is the _only_ way to do it _right_!" Charles accentuated this with a small telepathic jab of determination, and a call for Hank to make his appearance. Right on time, his friend suddenly marched from some secluded corner and joined Charles, his blue fur and humungous fangs shining in the light.

A few more people fainted. Pity.

The rest of the crowd responded by letting out small gasps of surprise. "Let us be equal in this, our slow evolution, our natural inclination towards light!" Hank drew it to a close. "The days of old are dead and a new society will be born, one of brotherhood and peace. It is time to go about earning that era, and know when it is all over that earn it we _did_!" Charles picked up where Hank left off curtly, letting his eyes roam the room.

"So, that begs the question," he cocked his head, curiously and let his voice drop to normal pitch. "Are you ready?"

For a very long moment, the audience just stared at them, eyes as wide as saucers and minds empty save for one spiraling, twisting thought: _what the hell?_ Charles was unsure whether this thought was a good one or signaled bad intentions, but he was determined to stand firm despite. Or, sit firm at any rate.

He could feel the waves of fear rolling off Hank. He was just as nerve wracked as Charles, perhaps more, and the telepath felt honored that the young man had agreed to come with him and show his true self. A self Charles knew Hank was deeply afraid might be rejected.

Then, after an eternity had passed and Charles had experienced three different heart attacks, there was a slow, tentative clap coming from his old professor.

Then another and another until the entire room was filled with the sound of clapping, and their audience was standing, eyes still wide but now with smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes. Charles was so shocked that he let out a lightly hysterical laugh. Hank's paw was digging into his shoulder, a giant grin stretching the length of his face as he executed a small bow. Charles watched, overjoyed and flabbergasted at the same time.

 _And that,_ he thought with satisfaction. _Is how you give a speech._

* * *

 ** _Two months later:_**

"I have to hand it to Chuck," Wolverine growled, gently tapping his cigar with one finger as he breathed out, slowly. The smoke drifted into the air. Erik glanced at it, feeling his stomach broil with memories of other smoking chambers and the people inside them. He shook his head and took another sip of his brandy.

"His money gets us into _a lot_ of nice places," there was not much Erik could say to disagree with that. He looked down at the five star hotel that they had settled into, the building spiraling so high that it made him nauseous to think about just where their room was, on the eighteenth floor.

Here, the towels were warmed, there were butlers in the hallways ready to do their bidding and the food was exquisite. Erik had already decided that based up the hotel, he adored India, India was fabulous.

"We won't be staying long," he warned Wolverine, instead of saying all this.

"Oh, come on chief," the clawed mutant whined, sagging against the balcony railing. They were currently watching the busy city of India move past, the beautiful and colorful castles-including the Taj Mahal- glittered in the fading sunlight. This place was gorgeous. Raven loved it. But their work here was done. They had spent the last three weeks smuggling food into the country to help feed the impoverished farmers on the outskirts of major cities. Now, they needed a new target.

To do that, they had to contact the Mansion, and ask Charles where else their assistance was needed. In the two months that they had been doing this, they had not yet had need to call upon the Mansion. The next mission had fallen into their laps easily and without end.

They had not had a moment of rest since they left the mansion; which is the only reason Erik had allowed them to staying this _far_ too expensive hotel for a few nights, to clear their heads and get a good amount of rest before the next mission. He had not seen nor heard from anyone at the mansion in two months. Within that time, the team had been to Ethiopia, France, Russia, Ireland and Greece.

It seemed almost everywhere he went it was either sweltering or freezing.

Wolverine's shoulders were relaxed as he let out another long puff of his cigar. It had taken a few weeks-but eventually Erik had managed to earn Logan's respect. It had been during a battle when Erik saved his life, actually, and since then the two had been pleasant friends. "We just got here," Logan continued.

"Our work here is done," Erik reminded him. "It's time to move on," Logan glanced at him sideways.

"If I didn't know any better, Chief, I'd say you're eager to find someone else to help," Erik shook his head indifferently.

"I'd rather be doing something, but helping humans," he sneered. "Not my favorite thing so far," Logan chuckled, unimpressed by his disgust.

"You're not fooling anyone, Chief," he snorted. "You want to help in any way or anyone-human or not. As long as we're doing something that makes the world better, you'll be happy. It's just who you are," Erik smiled bitterly at the confidence in Logan's voice. He did not know about his past, about Shaw. In truth, Logan only knew the bare basics of Erik's hatred and Charles's pacifism.

He had been told about the bet and volunteered immediately, not because he hated humans or loved humans, but because he was a wanderer by nature. Logan, Erik knew, always had to be moving, discovering, seeking, as if he were looking for his lost memories in the alcoves of the world's treasure boxes. Emma worked with him almost every night, struggling to pull some memories out of his deep conscious, but they all knew it was a mission for Charles. Only his mind was stubborn enough to bring light into a mind darkened by amnesia.

"Maybe we'll stop by the mansion after this mission," he contemplated aloud, wondering what his friend was doing at that moment and how the students were faring. He had to admit, there were moments-quick ones, albeit- where he missed the mansion. He would lie on the cot or ground or wherever he was sleeping at that moment for a few seconds, trying in vain to convince himself that he was in the snug blankets of his room and that the far off bombs of some new conflict were only fireworks.

"For Fourth of July," Erik had never celebrated it himself-did not plan too, he was German at heart- but he was curious to see the sky light shows of America, the patriotic symbol of pride.

"You just want to get home," Wolverine snorted, plainly. Erik really wished he would stop being so perceptive, and so _honest._

"And you don't?" He questioned back. Logan shrugged, and promptly squashed his cigar in the ash tray, almost violently. Then again, Logan did most everything violently. It was his way.

"I'd like to see how Rogue's doing," he grunted, merely. Erik smiled, thinking of the small girl who they had found following Logan around. The two seemed to share a unique bond. Rogue had been near tears when Logan had left, until Wolverine had solemnly handed her his dog tag, and firmly told her to take good care of it. He would be back for it one day, and expected it in top condition.

Erik did not turn when the door opened behind them and Emma stepped out. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of smoke and promptly joined them at the balcony, beautiful eyes examining the buildings of India. "It's so _loud_ ," Emma was one of the only ones not to enjoy it here.

"All of the cities we've been too are loud," Logan pointed out. Emma shook her head.

"I mean their minds," she grumbled, making both men perk in interest. The life of a telepath was mysterious and interesting. Emma gave more insights into it than Charles did. "They're filled to the brim with images and places and names and faces. It's distracting," she complained.

"Isn't everyone's head like that?" Erik asked curiously. Emma shook her head.

"No," she snorted. "Most people think at one thing at a time, focusing on it intensely. The people here focus on everything at once, _feeling_ everything at once. It is like watching a colony of ants scurry over each other, never ending. It is enough to make anyone feel disorientated," she said. Erik nodded.

"Look into my head then," Logan offered bitterly. "I'm sure its empty enough," Emma cast him a pitying glance.

"Would you like to try again tonight?" She asked, gently. Logan shook his head mutely and returned to the cabin inside, closing the door hard enough to crack glass behind him. Erik pinched the bridge of his nose. He was not paying for that if Logan broke it. "Where are we going next?" Emma then asked.

Erik shrugged. "I don't know. Can you feel anything?" He asked.

"We could take a look of Japan. I believe they're still healing from Hiroshima and Nagasaki," Erik hummed beneath his breath, gut twisting. So many people…

"Then I was thinking to return home, for Fourth of July," he considered. Emma nodded and-probably just to make him uncomfortable-laid her head on his shoulder. Erik knew that he should have pushed her off but really? She smelled like lilacs and lavender and the sun was hitting her face at just the right angle to make her hair look like gold and her eyes like gems. She was stunningly gorgeous and the very last thing he wanted to do was for her to get away from him.

"Want to make sure Charles hasn't gotten into any trouble without you?" she inquired.

"Oh, he has," he very much wanted to stroke her hair. What did it feel like? "I only want to know what _kind_ of trouble," she nodded and looked up at him with eyes that could see into his soul, and take control if she wanted too.

She studied his face for a long time. "You miss him," she finally muttered. Erik shrugged.

"He's my brother," he replied. She smiled, teasingly.

"Would you miss me if _I_ went away?" She purred. Erik smiled back.

"Miss your sarcastic remarks and cunning ruthlessness? I'd be lost without them my dear," he promised, only half kidding. Emma took her head from his shoulder and tossed her hair to the side.

"As long as you remember that, spicy head," she said, and if he didn't know any better he could swear he saw her blushing.

"Hey guys!" Erik turned around to see Raven in the doorway, waving them inside frantically. "You've _got_ to come see this! We're on the news!" _The news?_ Erik and Emma exchanged concerned glances before dashing in after Raven. In the main living area, Riptide, Azazel, Raven and Logan had all gathered around the tiny television set. Erik gently shoved his way to the front, Emma at his side.

"Are we wanted?" he demanded gruffly, body tensing for an inevitable escape.

"No," Azazel said, awe in his voice. "We are…We are…" he stammered, looking for words.

"We're _famous_ ," Riptide finished incredulously, pointing at the T.V, where an NBC news anchor showed, his face grave as always.

"Just a few months ago, footage was released that changed the way we look at our world forever," the anchorman was saying. "The world leaders were frantically trying to find a solution to this 'mutant epidemic," as they termed it that is until, this footage was released to our stations a few weeks ago," at the bottom of the screen, Erik saw them in France.

The burning building that they had faced was crumbling on T.V when suddenly Raven launched herself out of the fiery door, two small children in her arms. Riptide was on the ground, his arms outstretched as he created a hurricane which sucked the fire into its embrace as it twirled. Azazel was vanishing on and off, appearing with chains or more and more people, who then ran screaming away from the red-skinned mutant before Azazel popped back in.

Suddenly, Wolverine smashed through the sidewall, roaring, his claws gleaming in the sun. Close on his heels was Emma, her diamond form impervious to the fire as she dragged a burning man and promptly pushed him to the ground where firemen doused him. She dashed back inside to get more. Suddenly, in a daring move which Erik did not remember feeling as elegant as it looked, he appeared on camera, carefully lowering himself to the ground. Several dozen unconscious people, held aloft by metal wires, landed gently on the ground around him.

"I remember that," Logan grunted, surprised.

"That was just two weeks ago," Emma marveled. "Who was videotaping us? And how did it get to the press?" She wondered.

The television screen flashed back to the anchorman. He tapped his pile of papers down professionally, eyes glued to the camera. "These people have been identified as _mutants_ , and sightings of them doing good deeds have been reported all around the globe; including in Europe and Africa."

Rave crossed her arms. "Well, it's about _time_ ," she harrumphed.

"World leaders are refusing to comment on this,"-why wasn't Erik surprised? - "but the public has been thrown into a state of speculation. Indeed, reports have been coming in that a name has been bestowed upon these mutant vigilantes, inspired by the _other_ mutant celebrity that has taken over the world stage," Erik blinked, taken aback. Another mutant? Who? "Apparently the name is X-Men. Holly, tell our viewers more about the namesake of the vigilantes, _Professor X,"_ Who?

The camera swiveled to a woman beside him, looking just as serious and shuffling exactly the same amount of papers. She scowled at the camera. She sure didn't look very jolly for a Holly.

"Well, Jim," she replied primly. "Just over a month ago, former Oxford University prodigy Charles Xavier gave a riveting speech at his old college, proclaiming himself a _telepathic mutant_ and calling forth any others from hiding," no.

"It _can't_ be," Emma muttered.

Erik sighed. Of course it was. "His speech-which witnesses testify was partly in their minds-brought the crowd to tears. Since then, he has delivered dozens of speeches all around the United States, pulling with him a Mutant movement of fantastic proportions!" Raven leaned on the back of the couch, pressing her face into her hands.

"I leave him alone for two months," she lamented. "And he starts a movement," she groaned.

"Well," Emma observed, giving him a canny look. "Now you know what kind of trouble he's gotten into during your absence," she said. Erik glared at her. What Charles was doing was _suicidal._

"What do you mean by Mutant Movement, Holly?" Jim inquired.

"I mean that ordinary people have taken to the streets, revealing themselves to be Mutant. They are the ones who named the mutant vigilantes X-Men, and have subsequently started calling Charles Xavier Professor X. I don't know why, but it _is_ catching! Why, just last week my neighbor, who I've known since elementary school, walked out of his house and I saw coming out of his back were _spikes_. He looked like a human porcupine. Imagine, a man I'd known _forever_ was hiding a mutation all along, and he walked off to join the marchers. Entire towns and cities of mutants are being revealed, people we look at every day are revealing their true selves. Thousands of people, all in the name of Professor X," Jim's eyes widened.

"Holly," he gasped. "What does this mean to the public?" he asked.

"Well Jim, states such as Pennsylvania, Oregon, Idaho, and Maryland are demanding mutant equality in society. Incidentally, many humans have joined this movement as well. We asked one of them why, take a look," she gestured to the side of the screen, where footage was rolling of one young man with wild hair, and bright green eyes.

Behind him, a steady stream of bodies rolled past on the streets, holding signs above their heads and shouting a mantra which Erik recognized. His head snapped around to meet Raven's eyes.

They were shouting: "Mutant and proud!"

"Young man," another voice asked the marcher. "What are you doing here?" The boy cocked his brows and smiled cheekily.

"Marching," he replied.

"For what reason?"

The boy ran a hand through his hair, still smiling. "For mutant equality, man. So that they can get treated the same as we do and not get experimented on or put away in prisons or anything. So that people won't start hating on em' out of fear," though his vocabulary and grammar weren't top notch, Erik had to admit he was impressed.

"But aren't you human?"

"Professor X says we're all mutants," the teen informed the inquisitor evenly, before plowing on. "My sister is a mutant, though. She can control water and stuff; it's, like, pretty sweet. I've known forever, but she's always had to hide," there was a spark of seriousness in his happy-go-lucky eyes. "I want her to be able to come out, ya know? Share her talents with the world, be _accepted._ I don't want her to live the rest of her life afraid," he said, honestly.

"I like this boy," Azazel commented, nodding. "He is genius."

"His IQ points aren't up there but brains have nothing to do with morals," Emma snorted, crossing her arms.

Erik narrowed his eyes, listening. "But aren't you afraid that mutants might take over the world?" the protestor crossed his arms and snorted.

"Not really," he told the camera, as if this were a preposterous idea. "The only thing my sister could take over is the television. Besides, why do you have to be mutant to take over the world?" A fair question, if a bit stupid. Erik pursed his lips, wondering what Charles had said to make people this way and why he hadn't said it before. Preferably before Erik agreed to this bet.

"One more question," the anchorman went on, sounding surprised by the answers so far. "What does Professor X's message mean to you?" And now the boys features softened a bit into something like reverence. He rubbed the back of his neck before answering staggeringly.

"I think the same thing it means to everyone. Hope. Ya know, the world is changing. Even though I knew about my sister, man, I didn't know about all the other mutants out there. And the Civil Rights Movement is kickin up, and we just got one with that whole Russian crisis thing and the war… It's been tough."

The young man ran a wearied hand across his face, and in his eyes Erik saw some of the hardened shell crack away, leaving a child who had been made to make many sacrifices in the a war Erik had never considered before now. He had been involved in a very different aspect, in both WWII and the Cuban Missile crisis. He had never imagined that it might still be affecting even those who had not done any battle on the frontlines.

"I think everyone is scared this is one more war we gotta fight, right here at home too. But the Professor, man, he tells us that we don't have to be scared, ya know? He says that we're bigger than fear and we're better that what's happening. He believes that there can be peace. I don't even know what that word means anymore, but ya know what? If Professor X is leadin', then I'm followin,' because he believes in us. Doesn't that count for _something_?"

 _Professor X is going to get an earful from his best friend the second I get my hands on him,_ Erik thought, shaking his head in pure astonishment. Only Charles. The camera switched back to Holly, as grave-faced as she had been a moment before. "Well, Jim," Holly continued. "That is what is currently happening in the world today. Our sources tell us that Professor X is supposed to be giving another speech in California later this week," she sighed, audibly. "Mutant vigilantes, professors, movements. It does seem like the world is changing, doesn't it?" She asked. Jim nodded to her left, face contorting-quite shockingly-into one of thought.

"Indeed, Holly. I just hope it changes for the better. I'm Jim Barryman and this is…"

Riptide snapped the Television off before he could answer, briefly turning back to the others. "This is ridiculous," he finished for the anchorman. He looked at Erik, curiously. "This wasn't part of the bet, was it?" he asked.

Erik shrugged. "It wasn't ever _not_ part of the bet," he admitted begrudgingly. Raven gave him a pointed look.

"I think you underestimated my brother, Erik," she told him. Erik had to agree. He stared at the black screen for a moment before laughter bubbled up inside him, released in a few sniggering chuckles. He saw Emma smiling from the corner of his eyes, and knew that she hadn't needed telepathy to know what he was laughing at.

" _X-Men,"_ the metal bender burst out, sniggering. "Dammit, Charles, what kind of name is that?" he asked the general air. The others stared at him laughing for a moment, bafflement twisted on their faces, before his laughter became contagious.

They had spent too long as a team to have separate emotions now. They fought together, woke up together, went to sleep together. And now, after two months of fighting, they laughed together at the pure ridiculousness of their world.

"Things are about to get interesting," Logan guessed when their mirth had died down.

Erik nodded and cocked an eyebrow at Emma. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked, rhetorically. The telepath grinned. She looked like the surface of the sun when she smiled, Erik had noticed.

"We're off to California?" she asked.

"Of course," he looked around. "We have a speech to catch."


	23. Chapter 23

It was a sweltering 80 degrees outside the day that Cassidy decided to go shopping. The sizeable pantry stores inside of the house had gotten to such a low point that Sean had been forced to eat either oatmeal or cereal for breakfast for the past week and a half, instead of their ordinary extravagant-and way too healthy-meals which Michael had learned to cook up.

Sean was glad to have the doctor around, mainly because he made a mean pancake. He had replaced Emma and Azazel as the cook in the house, and he always managed to brighten the day with some medical trivia and Haiku riddle which he posed to generally everyone about five times a day. He seemed happy to be there too, despite being the only human. He reveled in their triumphs and kept track of their progress by way of powers and academics. He had offered to go out shopping for them, but after weeks of being confined to the mansion, almost everyone was eager to get outside.

The only reason that they hadn't before was because every time Charles called, he parted with a last 'be safe," which sometimes sounded more like a plea than advice. Sean suspected those were the times when he was in a hostile city. Since the entire world knew about Charles, they could easily know about the mansion too, and if his enemies found out about the rest of them… Sean couldn't bear the thought of men taking the children away for leverage or worse. Sometimes, it just seemed safer to stay inside the house. It was certainly large enough for them to play hide and seek in a hundred times and still never go through all the rooms.

However, after awhile, hide and seek became redundant and the lure of fresh air-and _civilization_ , people who they didn't see every day-was too much. So, eyes trained on high alert and bodies tense, Cassidy had disguised the children as best she could, and they had driven down to the city or shopping. The simple trip had suddenly turned into an adventure as Angel spotted a mall (which, she had not been to one in years) and dragged them into every clothing store imaginable.

The girls had been ecstatic, all except for Ororo, who saw little value in material possessions. The boys hadn't minded because also within the mall was a paintball studio (which Alex had paid for) and they had spent a good three hours shooting each other with paint pellets while the girls picked out summer dresses for the Fourth. Then, when everyone was satisfied, they had stopped by the large food court and grabbed lunch before deciding to picnic at the park.

It wasn't until sunset that they all returned home in high spirits, only for Michael to smile from the kitchen when they walked in and point downstairs as loads of groceries were dropped in the doorway. "Have fun?" he asked Kitty, who was grinning from ear to ear.

She nodded enthusiastically "We had ice cream!"Cried the sugar-livened five year old. Sean had a bad feeling about trying to put her to bed that night but it was dimmed when Michael laughed and shut the door.

"Well, I think you'll find a greater treat downstairs," he told them.

Sean perked up, instantly knowing what that meant. "The professor called?" Warren asked, also perking up.

Michael nodded and surveyed the piles of groceries and clothes, enough for another three months. "He's waiting for…" The rest of Michael's statement trailed off as the mutants rushed past him down the stairs to the basement, which consequently had been turned into the place where Cerebro was stored, and Hank's laboratory.

It had been weeks since Charles, Hank and Moira had contacted them through Cerebro. Mainly because Charles had discovered that he could link them across thousands of miles through the machine only last month.

Ushering the younger ones down the hallway towards the "sacred machine" as Scott dubbed it, Sean exchanged a glance with Alex. He couldn't even believe they were _this_ excited. True, they had not seen heads nor tails of Charles, Hank or Moira in nearly two months, but still… One would think family was calling. Which was true too, but still.

Alex walked up to the door and stood in front of the steel contraption. Scott nudged Warren and Bobby, giggling at the serious look on his brother's face as the scanners crossed Alex's eyes. "Summers, Alex," the computer identified. "Accepted," the door slid open with a hiss and ahead of them, his head floating as if on a television screen, was a smiling Charles Xavier.

"His hair gets longer every time we see him," Cassidy whispered to him with a giggle. Sean nodded. Charles hair was indeed getting longer, curling past his ears towards his shoulders. The children rushed inside, squeezing themselves unto the thin platform. Kitty hopped into Charles's chair. Cerebro itself towered above her menacingly.

"Fessor!" Kitty cried, exultingly. Hank passed behind Charles, muttering something irritably. It looked like they were in a hotel room.

"Hello everyone," Charles said, his voice booming in the circular room. "It is good to see you all looking so well," though it was a standard greeting, Charles meant it always.

"Fessor, you've been away a long time!" Kitty accused him huffily. Charles inclined his head.

"Forgive me Kitty. This is our last stop before we come home for Fourth of July," he told her, assuring. Kitty nodded, mollified.

"Are you bringing fireworks?" Bobby asked, excitedly.

"Moira has commandeered us a generous amount, yes," Charles laughed. _I love Moira,_ Sean thought happily as the door opened and Michael walked into the room. Charles flashed him a welcoming grin.

"Where are you now, professor?" Rogue asked.

"That's a good question," Charles said, frowning. There were bags of sleeplessness beneath his eyes. "Moira, where in the blazes are we?"He asked over his shoulder.

Moira appeared over his shoulder, also looking very tired. When she noticed Michael, though, she brightened. "Hi Moira!" the collective group called, waving. She waved back.

"Hello everyone! We're in California right now," she said.

"And it is _hot_!" Hank added from somewhere off screen.

"It's hot here too," Jean told them. "Eighty degrees," Charles looked envious.

"It is a hundred degrees here," he lamented.

"Are the people nice?" Jean wondered curiously. Charles and Moira exchanged a glance.

"Nicer than they've been in other places," Charles replied vaguely before continuing on a much more cheerful note. "But enough about me, how have you all been? Academics first," he instructed. Sean smiled. Even though Charles was across the country; there was no doubt about who the leader was around here. The children brightened.

"I learned about the solar system!" Kitty burst out.

"Oh, really?" Moira asked. "How many planets are there in our solar system?" She asked.

Kitty tapped her chin thoughtfully before answering "twelve!" To which Moira nodded.

"I started reading Shakespeare, professor," Ororo told him shyly. Sean glanced up, remembering another little boy who had enjoyed Shakespeare, and a father who had thought him a devil a few weeks later. If the name brought a spark of pain, Charles was good at hiding it.

"Splendid! Macbeth?" he inquired. Ororo nodded.

"I learned about how fire is made!" Warren volunteered. Now Hank's voice floated to them again.

"Using?"

"Instant combustion!"

"I've been practicing my math skills," Rogue piped in proudly. "Me and Bobby do science experiments and then test out which mathematical equation fits with it," she told him. Charles looked positively ecstatic. Moira cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, it is good to know I'm in the presence of greatness," she muttered. Charles nodded enthusiastically.

"I studied plant cells under the microscopes and saw the difference between animal and plant cells," Jean added.

"And I wrote an essay on the Declaration of Independence," Scott topped it off with.

"Appropriate," Charles agreed. "I see you have glorious teachers," his affectionate gaze swept over them.

"Have you heard anything from Erik?" Alex asked. Charles shook his head.

"No. I wouldn't worry yet though. They're probably just busy," it would not stop Charles from not worrying, but that was beyond the point.

"What's Hank doing?" Bobby asked.

" _He,"_ Charles turned a bit to scowl at Hank before sighing. "Is preparing for his lecture on how mutants come to be. The changes that have to occur in their DNA, why people get different powers, how it will evolve… The science of it, really. Then I will give my idealistic speech on equality," Charles gave Hank a dry look. "I'm not sure how it is I studied biogenetic mutation in college and yet you're the one giving lectures on it, Hank," he called.

"Luck, Charles!" came Hank's distant reply. "Has anyone seen my notes?" Moira snickered and walked over to Hank.

"I'm afraid I can't keep this up much longer," Charles told them apologetically. "Rest assured; we'll be home by the end of this week for the Fourth, _with_ fireworks. In the meantime, you children behave yourselves," he cast Sean a look along with the younger ones. Sean rolled his eyes. _Very funny, prof._

Cassidy caught the implied message. "Scott, Jean, take the others into the kitchen and begin separating those groceries please," she told them firmly. "Four piles: one for freezer, one for the refrigerator, one for the pantry and then clothes. Off you go then," aware of when they were being dismissed, the children waved goodbye, promised to behave and continue their studies and vacated their places.

Angel, Sean, Alex and Michael stayed where they were. They could tell that Charles had one last thing to bestow. The telepath waited until the door had closed behind the children before beginning. "I'm very proud of you all," he told them, softly. "You've done well with the students," his voice was tinged with longing, and Sean wondered just what Charles had been through these past two months.

"Only copying what you did for us Charles," Alex quipped.

"Professor, what you're doing-it seems to be working," Cassidy said, looking to them for support. Sean, Alex and Michael nodded.

"We saw you on the news. Erik and the others too. You've started a movement! They were even talking about it in town today," Sean cried, an unfamiliar feeling of rich pride growing in his chest as he remembered when Ororo had first caught sight of Charles on television and her shout of surprise.

Moira came back to stand behind Charles, now joined by Hank. "Ah, yes. That," Hank groaned, exchanging a glance with Charles. "Maybe we shouldn't have told them to be mutant and proud Charles," he thought.

"That was _your_ doing, my friend," Charles replied teasingly. "And being on the news is good-better because Erik and the others were shown as well-but it's leading to some unwanted attentions, too," he told them seriously.

"What do you mean?" Michael asked worriedly.

Moira piped in. "The CIA called. They wished to inform us that Charles is a nuisance and threat to public serenity, and the only reason he doesn't have a bullet in the brain is because he's become a public figure, but that's liable to change at any time," a shocked silence. Sean's blood ran cold.

"Which is partly why we can't use telephones to call. We're being watched," Hank told them.

"No one's tried anything yet, right? You guys are okay so far?" Sean inquired; his heart hammering. Hank and Charles exchanged a glance.

"There hasn't been… A lot of violence," Hank replied, succinctly. "But the occasional rock, brick or food thrown at us. Death threats, parades of human superiority outside of the hotel we've been in. I'm ready to come home, alright," he stated. Sean nodded. He would have been ready to come home after the first brick was thrown. Not for the first time, he realized why Charles had brought Hank with him. Where he was, it was no vacation. It was no game.

"All of this means, though, that you all are in ever the more danger of being discovered by government officials-or worse," Charles picked up again with graveness. "I know I've said this before but…"

"Be careful?" Angel, Alex, Sean and Michael asked in unison.

He smiled tremulously. "Be safe," he agreed.

* * *

Over three thousand people came to see her brother speak. Noticeably, most of the crowd were either mutant or mutant-loving humans, and almost everyone was dressed like a stereotypical surfer. She guessed that this state was one where Charles's message was well-liked, because some with signs held over their head proclaiming 'mutant and proud,' others who lurked in the corners and at the back, sneering at the mutants they saw and carrying clubs at their hips. There was murder in their eyes, and Raven kept a close eye out for a gun.

The large stage ahead where Charles would be speaking was a perfect place to stage an assassination. Raven-in the form of the blonde-haired girl who Charles had grown up with- wove her way through the milling crowd, and took a seat somewhere in the middle. A second later, Riptide, wearing jeans and a baseball cap, sat down next to her. They exchanged glances and a nod, but nothing else. They didn't want anyone recognizing them. They were the now famous X-men after all. It was probable that someone might.

 _All clear?_ That was Emma speaking through their telepathic link.

 _We're good,_ Raven agreed.

 _This beer they're sellin is disgusting,_ Logan reported.

 _Magneto and I are okay too. Charles is about to speak,_ they were separated across the large auditorium. They had arrived too late to see Hank's lecture n mutation, but Raven was sure he would be happy to repeat it later.

"Ladies and gentlemen; please take your seats!" a voice boomed on the intercom overhead. The crowds of people talking and laughing promptly dived into their seats, wide eyes trained on the stage. Riptide whistled beneath his breath.

"Well, I guess they want to hear him speak," he observed. Raven nodded. She remembered the times he would be asked to speak at the University. People had jumped into their seats in almost the same way, as if by hearing Charles's voice they were being told the secrets of the world.

If only he knew them.

Gradually, the whisperings of the crowd quieted as the lights overhead flickered and a spotlight was shown on the stage. A second later, Charles wheeled into view. Raven studied her brother's face. He appeared weary, but also… _Changed._ Not in the physical sense but there was something about him that seemed less like bold arrogance and more like actual bravery. It was very… Heroic.

The crowd burst into applause except for those in the back, who called out a steady stream of: "boo! Boo!"Charles seemed flattered. He smiled at the crowd, waiting for the clapping to die down. When it did, he took a deep breath. "Hello California," he greeted the general population. The rest of his statement was promptly drowned out by two women screaming:

"WE LOVE YOU PROFESSOR!"

 _What the hell?_ Erik demanded over the link. _Who is he, the King of England?_

Raven snickered. Charles's face went red. "Yes," he supposed awkwardly. "Well, it appears as if I don't have to introduce myself," the crowd broke into amused titters. "Though, my real name is Charles Xavier. I don't actually possess a teaching degree, so I'm a bit unsure why people keep calling me professor, but I do have to admit, I like the name," Raven rolled her eyes as the titters turned into laughter. Charles grinned, seeming to relax a bit more.

"When I was nine years old," Charles then went on, on a more serious note. "I started hearing voices in my mind. It wasn't until I was twelve that I discovered that it wasn't insanity which was causing it but a unique gift. I am a telepath, a mutant, and it has taken me many years but finally, I think we have all discovered," he grinned. "That I am not the only one like this in the world," whoops and whistles of agreement rang out from the mutants.

"For a very long time, I hid the truth of what I was from everyone. Out of fear, mainly. I was afraid that society would consider me a freak-and an expendable one, at that- and I would risk losing everything. My life, included. This is a valid fear which most mutants share. Yet a few months ago, I called the rest of my species from hiding," Charles's smile of triumph was brilliant. "And they answered."

The crowd roared. "Mutant and proud!" Raven had to admit she felt a stirring of pride deep in her chest upon hearing it.

"To the several million who suppose that I am an egomaniac who is controlling the minds of young people to stir trouble, I promise, I'm not that impressive. I didn't start the Mutant Equality Movement. In fact, I never imagined there would _be_ a movement when I spoke for the first time a few months ago," he admitted.

Raven cocked a brow. Of course he hadn't, because Charles never thought of things like that. He never considered what he might do.

"The mutants who are tired of hiding behind lies and masks, they started this movement. The families of those mutants, who no longer want to fear that one night their sisters and brothers and sons and daughters will be snatched away and used as lab rats, they deserve the credit. The _hundreds_ of humans who understand that equality and freedom are not things we can hoard to ourselves as if we are stacking nuts for the winter, _they_ started this movement!"

Another sweeping applause.

"So I may not have begun this Movement, but with every bone in my body I support it. I only ask that it remain peaceful, that it remains kind, that we remain _unified_. Mutants are not trying to take over the world, not trying to split our species in two. We are all of us from the same gene, the _human_ gene. Humanity as we recognize it was once single-celled organisms until they mutated. We are all of mutants in our way," _we aren't human, Charles._ _And they aren't one of us._

"Even if some of us have green skin, black eyes, read minds, turn things to ice, or whatever else is out there. We are in the same sea; this Earth is still an Earth that we will be forced to share. The sun is going to rise and warm all of us whether we're mutant or human!" He inhaled deeply, breathing. In a calmer voice, continued.

"Nevertheless, I have been asked what exactly the Mutant Equality Movement wants. Again, since I didn't start it, I wonder why people keep asking _me._ But I will give you my definition of a right answer: We want to avoid a future of hatred. I don't want mutants to become second class citizens. I don't want mutants to turn on their human brethren in fear and anger and turn _them_ into second class citizens. I don't want to be dragged into a lab and experimented on. I don't want to hide, I don't want to fear. I don't want people to fear _me._ I want my friends and family to be treated according to who they are, not what they can do. Isn't that what we all want? To be equal?"

 _Actually, I want a better beer, Chuck._

 _Shut up Logan._

"But these are social qualms. And socially, they will be solved one step at a time. Politically, I want a law that says it is as illegal to experiment on a mutant as it is on a child. I want a law that says that mutants get every right that is given to anyone else in this country. It's almost Independence Day, yes? I want independence from the tyrant that has ruled for my entire life; fear!" The shouting that accompanied this applause was thunderous. Raven felt a smile picking at the sides of her mouth even if it wasn't the first time she had ever heard Charles speak, and hesitantly, she clapped along with the rest of the crowd.

Even if right now she didn't trust Charles's words any more than she trusted him, they were still enough to enflame her soul with a passion for the fight she had chosen. The mutant fight. _Not bad, Charlie. Joseph would be pleased._

"However these goals are large, and idealistic. They require more than mere words. They deserve action. There are those who have already set themselves upon a road of justice and peace," was that her imagination or did Charles smile right at them?

"They have dedicated their powers to the good of all, and that is the road which I urge you to follow. Take to your streets, to your communities and schools and hospitals, _all of you!"_ he roared, and she felt the breath surge out of her lungs in shock at the pure authority in Charles's voice. He was not _asking_ an audience, he was _commanding_ an army.

 _"_ And do something great with the gifts you've been given! Show our governments and _ourselves_ that we are capable of working together in peace. Show them the true spirit of this society is not one of malice or hatred but one of enlightenment and tolerance. This is my hope for you, and this is my belief: we-humans, mutants, dark skin, light skin, everyone _on the face of this planet_ -can overcome the binds of difference and find another way!"

"Wow!" Riptide gasped in unison to Raven when the entire assembly surged to their feet, nearly jumping up and down in their excitement and clapped with all the vigor they possessed. The thundering of hands was breathtakingly ear-shattering, as if Banshee's screams had been magnified times ten. Raven lost sight of Charles in the screaming crowd. However she knew with all the intuition of a sister; that he was staring right at her. She stood. Riptide had already vanished in search of Erik and the others. She stood there, alone.

And with a smile, Raven faced the general direction of where the stage had been and slowly, staring straight ahead into the eyes of her brother, she began clapping.


	24. Chapter 24

**_Three days later:_**

Charles was woken by the sound of Kitty screaming.

Charles had never slept as deeply as he did when he returned home from California. The constant stress of being on the go for so long-what felt like eternities- facing prejudice and scorn like no other, made him emotionally as well as physically exhausted. He had never been so glad to see his dusty room.

He _needed_ this break, which was why when Moira, Hank and he had returned to New York in the wee hours of the morning, they had all collapsed into bed with clothes on. It was only now, two days after their return; that they finally woke up.

Kitty's screams _were_ rather loud. Charles did not open his eyes when the sound tore through the fog of slumber that had encased him for the past two days, like a warm and safe cocoon. He lay there in his soft, warm bed for an inestimable amount of time, merely _breathing_ and allowing his tired muscles to relax. His arms ached from wheeling himself around so much, and his throat was sore from speaking. His head had been pounding last he knew, but it was quiet now.

Someone had opened his window for him while he slept. A cool breeze flew in, smelling of barbeque and sea water. His stomach gurgled. Golden morning sunshine was resting on his face like an old friend, softly caressing his curls and lulling him back to sleep.

Downstairs, Charles could hear laughing, rustling, preparations for a new day. The smell of pancakes and sausage wafted to his nose, making his growling stomach protest louder. He ignored it, determined to enjoy his peace a bit longer. His mind picked up several others, searched through the house for Kitty. A smile tugged at his mouth when he felt Hank downstairs, glowing with happiness as he snatched Kitty up in a large bear hug before commencing to tickle her silly.

" _Teddy bear!"_ Kitty shrieked in delight, wiggling in his grip. "S-stop it! _"_ She giggled.

Charles did not fight the chuckle that made it past his lips. Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open. His eyesight was blurry. He rubbed the sleep from them, then gave an abrupt start when he saw another being sitting at the edge of his bed, giving him an amused look.

After so long, it took Charles a moment for the name to come to mind. When it did, his grin was one of pure pleasure. "Erik!" he cried.

Said man smiled. He looked older, more weary and time-worn, but the old fierceness in his eyes had not abated any. He stretched out a hand to help Charles sit up, which the telepath took gratefully. "Guten Morgen mien bruder," he replied in German as Charles sat up and promptly clapped him on the shoulder in greeting, hands still clasped tightly. It had been nearly three months since they had seen each other. "I heard you're a national icon," Erik continued.

Charles blushed and looked down, just now noticing that someone had undressed him while he was asleep too, replacing his rumpled suit with his normal robe and pajama bottoms. He blushed all the more. He _really_ hoped it had been Alex or Sean to do it. He decided not to ask, just in case it hadn't been. "Accidentally," he replied. Erik crossed his arms sternly. Charles had a feeling he was in for a lecture.

"And were you going to tell me about this plan, Charles?" he demanded.

"No," Charles answered promptly. "Probably not for the reason you think, though. I only came up with the idea when Moira came to visit, after you'd all left. Speaking of which, how are you? Nothing broken? When did you get back?" he skimmed Erik's memory loosely, wondering if there was some minor thing he may have forgotten but his mind stored away.

 _"_ _I'm_ fine," Erik replied. "Everyone is fine, nothing broken. We've been lucky to escape our adventures with nothing more than minor bruises…"

"Raven?"

"Not a scratch, as promised," Charles smiled benignly.

"Thank you Erik," the other mutant nodded and pulled his legs up onto Charles's bed, crossing them beneath him with the moves of a man who had been there for quite awhile. Charles wondered why he had been watching him.

"We got here a day after you, actually. We slept all day too, but _you_ …" Charles shrugged sheepishly. Admittedly, he had not been getting much sleep before coming to the mansion anyway. The curse of having a mind which refused to shut off… and also one which sensed assassination attempts in progress and moved- _that moment-_ to stop them. Moira had needed her rest, and besides, he wasn't completely helpless.

"How long have you been in my room?" He asked. Now it was Erik's turn to look sheepish.

"Um…" he rubbed the back of his neck, cringing. "Since last night," Charles cocked an eyebrow.

" _Why?"_ he inquired.

"Because… I wanted to make sure you woke up," he sounded so plaintively awkward about it that Charles broke out laughing. It was good to be home.

"Did you suppose an assassin would come in here and do away with me in the night?" Charles asked with a laugh. Erik crossed his arms grumpily.

"It _is_ possible. Being a CIA public nuisance and all that," he pointed out, cheeks reddening. Charles found this most amusing too. So amusing that he laughed for a very long time, until Erik's glare snapped him out of his mirth.

"Oh, Erik," Charles snickered, unimpressed by the glare. "I've missed you. Don't be ashamed to have a heart my friend," he scolded good-naturedly.

"If I have one, I wish someone would have told me about it," Erik retorted dryly.

"Hasn't Emma told you yet?" Charles inquired innocently enough. Erik's glare was a very eloquent answer. Charles smirked. "How is she, by the way?" he persisted.

"Fine," Erik replied tightly. "She's my second-in-command,"

Charles's eyes grew wide. " _Oohh,"_ he gasped.

"You never change, do you Charles? Anyway, I was at your speech in California. You did well. There seems to be a lot of support for the Mutant Movement there," Charles merely nodded tiredly, his grin dropping. He did not wish to discuss politics or movements or anything at that moment. He just wanted to be happy to be home, and free to be free.

"More than in other places," he accepted calmly.

Erik studied him for a long span of a second before murmuring, almost as if he didn't want Charles to hear: "You've changed," Charles blinked, taken aback.

"My hair is longer," he admitted, thinking Erik meant that. His mind told him something different though, but Erik did not elaborate, he only stood to his feet and summoned Charles's wheelchair with a wave of his hand.

"Breakfast is waiting. Hurry up," he called over his shoulder, aware that Charles could get out of bed himself. The telepath was grateful for the show of faith. Too many people had gazed at him with pity lately for his liking. It was Independence Day, and he intended to be independent of any outside interferences. He could get around perfectly well by himself, thank you very much.

Finches chirped and sang outside. Another fresh breeze ruffled his long hair, and Charles grinned. It was so _good_ to be home.

* * *

"Beast, dude, I know how to flip a burger."

"Then why aren't you doing it right?"

"You know what, bozo? Go back to your formulas. I'm doing _real_ man's work here,"

"You are flipping a meat patty at an incorrect angle. How is that man's work?"

"Charles, why didn't you leave Einstein here in California?!"

Cassidy, Raven, Moira and Emma snickered as the four women listened to the bickering of Alex and Hank at the barbeque grill. The darkening sky was already littered with fireworks, the colorful displays lighting the sky. The entirety of their house was seated in the backyard of the mansion, lit by the fireworks and setting sun. Dragonflies and squirrels dove amongst the flowers, chattering.

The air smelled of barbeque and smoke from fireworks, it was strangely soothing. Strewn across the yard were lawn chairs and small outdoor tables covered with sweets and junk food.

It was the _only_ time they were going to be allowed to eat it all at once, Cassidy had already warned the little ones, so she was not surprised to see Kitty sneaking a fourth cookie from the table. It was alright. Charles could put her to sleep tonight.

Sean and Riptide were setting up their own fireworks, also arguing over the best way to place this one and that. Azazel and Wolverine were telling Jean, Bobby and Scott about their adventures in Ethiopia. Michael and Azazel were playing volleyball with Ororo, Rogue and Warren. Charles and Erik were over in the corner, playing a very concentrated game of chess while sipping iced tea.

"It is good to have you guys back," Cassidy told her friends sincerely, as she sipped the fruit punch in her hand. "Being a woman in a house full of men? _Not_ easy," she told them.

"Been there, done that," Raven drawled in a world weary-manner from where she laid out on the reclining lawn chair, ankles crossed. "Wanted to kill them in a week. You, girlfriend," she raised her glass in a salute. "Have the patience of an angel," they chuckled.

"All except for Hank, right?" Emma inquired impishly. The bitter gleam in her eyes had been expunged by wherever they had been, leaving only a keen teasing there. Cassidy thought she looked even more beautiful that way.

Raven snorted. "I wanted to kill him the most. He's seconded only by Charles," she informed Emma.

"And Emma," Moira broke in, stirring her iced tea with her straw languorously. "I'll have you know that Charles has you and Erik's wedding all planned out. Like, he started asking for wedding planners and everything," Emma's face burned a beet red, prompting the rest of them to snicker and whoop mischievously. Cassidy grinned, glad that Moira was not excluded from the talk because she was human.

"Charles is an idiot," Emma replied staunchly.

"But he's right," Raven pointed out. "Erik has his eyes on you too," as if he knew that they were talking about him, Erik looked up and narrowed his eyes at the row of reclining women.

"What are you four talking about over there?" he demanded. Cassidy opened her mouth to inform him that it was none of his beeswax when Raven broke in.

"We're planning to assassinate you two and collect the award money!" She called, seriously. "How much are you worth, Erik?" The metal-bender did not seem disturbed by this proclamation. He shrugged and looked down at the chessboard, planning his next move. Cassidy saw Emma studying him from the corner of her eye, eyes scanning his graceful body with a predator's gaze.

"Not as much as Professor X over here," he replied, moving his piece before sitting back with a smug look on his face, Charles snorted.

"Oh come now, Erik. I'm sure that the Russians would pay a good price for you."

"You think so?"

"Well, you did invade their leader's temporary stronghold and knocked out their guards," he pointed out.

"Hey!" Emma snapped out of her reverie. "I did that!"

"Yes, but you were inconspicuous about it, darling," Charles reminded her.

"True enough," Erik accepted calmly when Charles responded with a clever countermove. "What about you, Charles? How much can they get off your hide?" He inquired. Charles stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"I don't know. It depends upon who they turn me into, really. I imagine England would pay a decent sum. The CIA wouldn't pay much; they're tight on money right now. Haven't you heard? It's why they can't afford to put a bullet in my brain," his morbid sense of humor was quite disturbing, but Erik only chuckled.

"Economies bad," he grunted.

"Indeed. Sorry girls, I don't believe you'll get much off us," Charles called over apologetically.

"Enough for a manicure is fine with us, Charlie," Raven replied, assuring him. The women burst into laughter when Charles gave them a dry look before retuning back to their game, both men momentarily satisfied that they had deduced what the women were discussing. Cassidy stirred her punch with one finger. She glanced over. Hank and Alex had managed to agree on the correct way to flip a burger by now and were congratulating each other on the success.

"So, how bad was it in D.C?" Emma was asking Moira. "Did you meet much prejudice?" Moira shrugged, eyes downcast.

"More of… Ignorance. They spoke of mutants as you would talk about animals. Trying to put on a front of humanity, but really just trying to get rid of the problem as fast as possible. I was more than glad to leave that place," she shivered, then turned back to Emma and Raven.

"We saw you two on the news, saving those people in France. That was very brave," she complimented them.

Emma shrugged modestly. Raven grinned. "All in a day's work," she chirped.

"Maybe," Emma yawned. "But it does get… Overwhelming after awhile. Seeing all the pain and cruelty that we have, I mean. Those children in Africa, being sold like cattle… It was _horrendous,"_ she said.

"Imagine what they would do to _mutants_ ," Raven added knowingly. Cassidy glanced at Moira, who looked quite dour, before quickly changing the subject. Sometimes Raven was as thoughtlessly cruel as Erik.

"I feel so useless here sometimes," She admitted to the others. "Staying inside like a good housewife while you all are out there saving the world," she said. Emma looked at her with compassionate eyes, setting a gentle hand on her arm.

"Honey, you _are_ saving the world," she told her seriously. "You're saving the future of this world. Do you see how happy those kids are? You've been a big part of that. Your work is no less important than ours," she told her with such candid frankness that Angel felt tears sting her eyes. She smiled tremulously.

"Thanks guys," she said.

"You know what we should do tomorrow?" Raven asked. "We should go _out_ , to a restaurant or shopping or something. Have a girl's day," she offered, looking every bit like a young girl begging her mother for a new dress.

"All four of us," Cassidy added when Moira looked unsure. The human smiled at her gratefully.

"We'll steal the Blackbird," Emma planned, studying her leg lazily. "Leave the men here to their own devices. I know this _amazing_ place to get smoothies down in Chile. Then we can just lounge on the beach. The water is so blue it _shimmers_ ," she told them.

"I've always wanted to see the old Inca cities," Moira dreamed aloud. "Wouldn't that be a great place to sip smoothies?" She joked. The others tittered, though the suggestion floated temptingly in their air. They were mutants, after all. And it was Charles's money. Who said they had to do anything normally?

Cassidy sighed in longing. She had never been on a vacation before. Her parents had not been able to afford any such thing. She wondered where they were now, whether they would be proud of the life that she had chosen. Then again, she figured they probably would not be much impressed with her at all, being as how she had turned to a life of stripping.

She wasn't very impressed with herself for it either.

"Moira," she said suddenly as the others went on discussing vacation time. "What did your parents say about you being in the CIA?" She asked. Moira let out a quick guffaw of laughter.

"My parents?" She squawked. "My parents think I'm a disrespectful, irresponsible youngling who doesn't know what she's doing," she sounded a bit proud at these explanatives.

"Why?" Raven asked, surprised. Moira rolled her eyes.

"Because of the three rules of womanhood: docility, chastity, and faithfulness. All of these are supposed to be towards a man. Women have their roles, men have theirs. That's the way my parents believe it's supposed to be," she stated with a dismissive wave of her hand. "My being in the CIA instead of in the kitchen bothers them. And now that I've started standing for mutants?" she shook her finger firmly at them. "No, no," she clucked.

"I'm guessing they aren't fans of us?" Raven inquired.

Moira leaned back and pressed a hand to her forehead, as if checking for a fever in light of talking about her parents. "Said nicely," she retorted dryly. "What about you, Emma? Where are your parents?"

Emma smiled sadly. "My mother died of Cancer when I was twelve, and my father kicked me out the second I turned eighteen. I don't know where he is now," she replied with a half shrug that hid emotions that went deeper. Since they were taking turns. "Raven?"

Raven stared into her cup as if there were something fascinating inside besides soda. Anger flashed in her eyes. "They abandoned me when I was young. I don't remember them, really," she said. "All I've ever known is Charles and the mansion," she waved her hand towards the giant structure, which looked like a menacing prison as the sun finally deserted them for the night.

Cassidy shivered. The distant sound of fireworks boomed across the sky. Flashes of multi-colored lights bathed them in luminance. "I'd have loved to live in this mansion," she muttered. "My parents were poor. They were mutants. Our landlord found out and threatened to tell everyone if we didn't give into his demands, or, rather, if my _mom_ didn't," the implications went unsaid.

"I always hated them for being so weak, for just giving in instead of using their powers to fight back. I always hated them because they couldn't protect me, so when I was sixteen I left and went about finding my own way," and she regretted it with every bone in her body.

Her parents had been sickly, frail. Her mother especially, after years of abuse by the hands of their landlord. Her own words echoed in her mind.

 _"_ _We don't belong here, and that is nothing to be ashamed of,"_ that was the attitude of her former self, bitter and desperate to find a family that would fight back. Now that she had one, she could not help but be ashamed at her old selfishness, her narrow-sighted views. Her parents had deserved better, they had deserved more from her. They deserved a better daughter than she was.

Raven sighed, heavily. "I _really_ need a vacation now," she whispered with a lonesome and agonized look at the house towering above them. Cassidy turned to stare at her, along with Emma and Moira, for a long span of time. Then, all four women broke into laughter. They _all_ needed a vacation now.

Suddenly, Sean jumped to his feet in the middle of the yard, his orange hair striking in the light of fireworks. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!" He called, silencing the stories and halting the volleyball game. Erik and Charles looked up from their game inquisitively.

All eyes turned to him. Sean gestured to the large pile of explosives behind him, all tangled and curled together like forest vines. Cassidy crossed her arms. _This should be good_ , she thought as she and Moira gave each other similar looks. "Thanks to my staunch efforts…!"

"Hey!"

"Okay, the staunch efforts of myself and my sidekick Riptide over here, we have configured a firework show of magnificent proportions. Are you ready?"

"Yeah!" The children shouted in unison, faces brightening as they fairly skipped over to where Sean and Riptide were, gazing over the mess of fireworks.

"What is it going to look like?" Ororo asked, this being the first time she ever saw fireworks.

Sean put his hands on his hips heroically. "Like awesome-ness!" he told them. Cassidy sighed and stood, heading over with the girls to the knot of people gathering. Logan, Hank, Alex, Azazel and Michael stood behind the children, examining the bulk of explosives with wary eyes that said, quite clearly, w _e're so gonna die._

Charles and Erik came slower. Kitty launched herself into Charles's lap, scrambling up unfeeling legs to grip the front of his shirt tightly.

"Fessor, we're gonna do fireworks!" she cried, jabbing a finger at the sky, where several more explosions rocked the atmosphere. Charles looked worried as he waited for Kitty to get comfortable in his lap.

"Are you quite sure that's safe?" He asked Sean, who shrugged.

"Not really," at least he was honest. Riptide clapped a hand over his mouth from behind hurriedly.

"Don't worry about it! It's fine!" He assured Charles, in a more cheerful fashion. The telepath cocked an eyebrow at him dubiously.

"You're the one who bought them, Chuck," Logan pointed out.

"I didn't know we were going to set them off at the _same_ time," Charles protested.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Sean asked with a flippant wave of his hand.

"The house could catch on fire?" Emma offered sarcastically.

"Instant combustion!" Warren laughed delightedly.

"BOOM!" Scott, Kitty and Bobby exclaimed in unison, describing their near future.

Sean put on his best hurt face as he turned to his partner in crime. "They have no faith is us, Riptide," he pouted. Riptide gave Sean a very distinct 'no, they have no faith in _you_ ,' look, but before he could think of something to say a thoughtful expression overtook his face. He glanced around, as if searching their faces for trickery, before announcing in a quiet voice.

"My name is Alejandro," Cassidy turned to him, shocked that the normally quiet and intense mutant would actually… _Divulge_ something like that. The others looked just as shocked, all except for Emma and Charles, both of whom only gave each other knowing looks.

"Well," Charles interrupted the eloquent silence that followed this declaration. "Does anyone else want to announce some secret name? Or confess? I know someone's been in the candy," this was directed at Jean, Ororo and Kitty. The three girls grinned unapologetically.

Azazel's quiet voice broke into the fray. "Ivan," he introduced himself. "My name was once Ivan," if at all possible, Cassidy was even more shocked by his admittance than Ri-Alejandro's. _This day is just full of surprises._

She supposed that was what one got in a family like theirs.

" _Now_ can we set off fireworks?" Sean demanded impatiently, briefly clapping Alejandro on the back encouragingly. Charles narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Erik chuckled softly.

"Stop worrying, old friend. Everyone back up," he cautioned, waving the children away from the mass. Cassidy felt a warm body appear behind her and turned to see Alex standing at her side. She smiled at him. He smiled back, the sharp angles of his face bright with the exploding sky. Something about his gaze made her blush; and she felt her face heat up even more when he slipped his hand into hers.

"Watch the fireworks with me?" he asked softly. Cassidy did not hesitate to nod. Alex smiled and tugged her away from the fireworks. Sean and Riptide arrived with match boxes.

Cassidy looked down the line of people at her side, attempting to look composed but secretly shuffling with anticipation. The children were squealing and giggling excitedly, almost hopping from foot to foot. Kitty sat in Charles's lap, and the telepath was whispering something to her that made her giggle.

Raven and Hank stood side by side, so close that she knew they could hear each other breathing. Suddenly, as if it had never occurred to him before, Hank hesitantly reached out and swiped a strand of Raven's hair behind her ear, exposing a face that many might call ugly, but Cassidy considered exquisite. It was the face of her sister, after all. That was probably why she was so pleased when Raven looked up, and met Hank's eyes. They smiled at one another tentatively.

Emma had snuck up to Erik. The two leaders stood side by side, and Emma's golden hair gently stirred into Erik's face. The metal bender gently swept it away. Emma appeared to apologize, but Erik only shrugged and took something from his pocket. Cassidy knew it was metal because one second it was a small ball of shining silver, then next it had been made into a hair clip, complete with a delicate wasp sitting atop it. Emma blushed as he offered the small gift valiantly. She clipped it into her hair as if it were a prized jewel.

Michael and Moira were standing with arms crossed, laughing about Sean's attempts to light the pile. Suddenly, Michael said something that made Moira swat his chest playfully. He grabbed her hand gently, before it could slip away and pressed it against his heart as if it had been instinct. When they met eyes, he coughed with embarrassment and let go. Moira looked down at her hand as if it had turned into gold upon being touched.

Finally, her eyes landed on Charles and as she met his sapphire, secretive eyes, he winked.

She shook her head. _Only you, Charles._ He dipped his head in a tiny bow before turning his eyes to the sky just as Sean and Riptide scrambled out of the way of now armed explosives. "Bombs away!" Sean yelled, momentarily stopping her heart at the choice of words before the air shattered with screaming fire. The fireworks all soared into the air at the same time, burning and whirling so fast that their existence was a mere blur for a moment.

Then, they exploded.

"Wow!" Bobby whooped as every color imaginable was suddenly splashed against the backdrop of stars and velvety darkness-like an artist's splattering abstract against a black canvas. Magenta, emerald, azure, pearl and gold flashed in the air above, letting out fizzling hisses as the chemicals met the elements of oxygen and floated as embers to the ground.

"Awesome!" Scott cheered. Warren did a back-flip in mid air, his wings stretched wide as a hawk's. For once forgetting her powers-forgetting to fear-Rogue grabbed Ororo in a tight hug of enjoyment, eyes wide with delight. Thanks to her gloves, Ororo only hugged her back, safe and sound. Jean and Bobby applauded and whistled. Erik placed a hand on Emma's shoulder. For once, his eyes were wide with childish awe. Charles laughed as Kitty almost fell from his lap in amazement.

Sean and Alejandro exchanged celebratory high-fives. Cassidy felt a weight on her chest lift as she watched the sky explode with light-and wondered if perhaps they could find another way to banish night after all. Whatever night it may be. After all, a bunch of colonists had found freedom in a world that denied its existence for people like them, why couldn't the mutants do the same?

Why weren't they the same?

"One day, we will celebrate a Mutant Equality Day," she told Alex softly. He nodded, eyes on the show above, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Cassidy laid her head against his chest-listening to a strong heartbeat beneath her ears. She pretended not to notice when Alex kissed the top of her head affectionately and whispered:

"One day."


	25. Chapter 25

_**Three days later:**_

Charles had already decided that the next time the girls wanted to go on vacation in South America; they could very well take Sean and Erik with them because the two of them were being of no help here.

"Fessor, can I have a puppy?" Kitty asked him while Erik lounged about in the living room, his eyes skimming a newspaper. He was doing very well at pretending to ignore the chaos that surrounded him. It was well after noon, and for some reason Sean had deemed it wise to give all the kids candy right after breakfast.

Charles wasn't sure how much more he could take.

"A puppy?" He demanded, cringing when he heard a crash come from upstairs.

"Sorry!" Jean yelled instantly, sounding appropriately contrite. She was probably trying to levitate heavy things again. Kitty stood in front of him, still clad in her pink Princess outfit. Her wide brown eyes stared up at him pitifully.

"Yeah!"She cried.

"What in the world do you want a canine for?" Dogs were notoriously dirty, and Charles could barely handle his own hair, how did Kitty expect him to handle dog's hair too?

Kitty hugged her wand-stick-magical-relic thing to her chest tightly. "So I can love it and cuddle it forever. I want to name him fluffy," she told him factually.

Charles snorted and quickly warned Warren against trying to lift Bobby by flight. He called upon Alex and Michael-who were currently trying to get Rogue un-stuck from between the staircase railings-that they might want to check on them when they were done. "Fluffy is an entirely unoriginal name, Kitty. If we were to get a dog, we would name him Reginald," he decided.

Kitty didn't seem to care. "So can I have one?" she asked.

"No."

"Ah, _fessor_!" Kitty pouted. "It's only a puppy!"

"Which would grow up to be a flea-ridden, hair-covered, slobbering mongrel. That would require sustenance," _sort of like Erik,_ he shot to his unhelpful friend. Erik pretended not to notice his telepathic insult.

"Fessor," Kitty stomped her foot. "Everyone else has a puppy but me!" she whined. Charles gazed at her confusedly, trying to make out the jumbled emotions of the five-year-old's mind.

"How would you know that? You don't go anywhere else but here," he pointed out. Kitty ignored his logic. She probably learned it from Erik. Bobby suddenly rushed past him a blur of frosty snowflakes, laughing manically. He was followed closely by a frantic and frustrated Logan. The two rocketed past like cartoon characters, Logan cursing beneath his breath violently. Charles sighed, Kitty would not be dissuaded.

"Why can't I have one?"

"Kitty, we do not need the extra responsibility of a puppy right now,"

"Yes we do! I want an animal friend!" Kitty asserted, crossing her arms grumpily. Tears built in her eyes. Charles was at a loss for what to do.

"I thought you made friends with the squirrel outside your window,"

A large tear dropped from her eye. "Nutty got eaten by a bird!" She told him in a wail of remorse. Charles patted her on the shoulder solemnly.

"Nutty had a good life. It was the bird's turn to eat. I'm sure he would understand," he assuaged her. He thought he heard Erik let out a guffaw of laughter.

"Now I don't have any animal friends! Fessor, can't I have a puppy? I'll take care of him!"

"What makes you think a bird won't eat the puppy?" he inquired. Kitty's bottom lip trembled.

"I'll tell him no!" She cried.

Charles struggled to make her understand. "I'm sure Nutty told him that too," he reminded her.

Kitty hung her head. "I'll protect him! He'll be my friend!"She promised.

Charles sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose stressfully. "Kitty, you don't need a puppy to have an animal friend," he told her compassionately.

She blinked away more tears. "I don't?"

"No, of course not. I'm sure Hank has some bacteria in his lab that can be your friends. There are a whole lot of them, too," he told her enthusiastically.

This seemed to perk her interest. "What do they eat?" She asked.

"Air."

"I can't feed them that!" Kitty wailed.

"Yes, you can. Blow on them a bit. They like carbon dioxide… Ah, look, there's Hank. Let's ask him, shall we? Hank, could you…?" Charles trailed off as he saw the expression on Hank's face, as well as the stark feeling of terror emanating from his psyche.

"Kitty," He patted her on the back. "Go to Erik. Maybe you can find a new squirrel to be your animal friend," the metal-bender perked up when he heard Charles's tone of voice, gazing at him with inquisitive worry. Charles gave him a discreet nod of the head towards the backyard. _Take her._ Erik put his newspaper down and was up at once, coming over to offer Kitty his large fingers. She grabbed them instantly, probably intending to convince him to persuade Charles to let her have a puppy.

"Come, little one," he said, narrowing his eyes at Charles momentarily. When he saw no answers in his eyes, he merely led Kitty outside into the fresh daylight. Charles turned to Hank immediately.

"What is it?" He asked. Hank came nearer, his eyes full of anxiety.

"You have a call, Charles," he said softly. Charles frowned.

"Was it the wrong number?"

"The person on the other end asked for Professor X specifically," Charles's blood ran cold. No one on the face of the Earth knew where Professor X's real home was. He had not even hinted at it in any of his speeches. He hadn't even written the address in any paperwork for college or bank accounts or anything. The mansion had always been a back-up, a safe house, a sanctuary where he could hole up Raven should the need ever arise. Absolutely no one should have been able to find it out.

 _No one._

"Hank," he spoke calmly, though his heart was pounding. "Get everyone to the safety room. _Now_ ," the room where he had trained Alex to use his powers. The place that could withstand a nuclear attack if need be.

Hank's face had morphed into seriousness. "Right," he turned, then seemed to remember something. "What about you?" He asked, but Charles was already wheeling away towards his bedroom, where the spare telephone was.

"I'm going to answer it of course," he called over his shoulder and did not wait for Hank's reply before he was heading up the elevator towards the second floor, heart still hammering, his mind going over the hundreds of responses that he could have to whatever threat or bribe would be issued. Was it the CIA? Had they captured the girls? Or could it be-he snorted at this-his mother actually calling for once? That thought was dashed to pieces before he knew it, and Charles felt a bead of sweat travel down his forehead when he saw the phone sitting there lying on its back on his dresser. Innocent. Quiet. He closed the door softly.

Slowly, he wheeled himself over to it, yanked the cable to make it fall to his seated height and then slowly placed the cold plastic next to his ear. He could feel the minds of the others, all scrambling down into the protection chamber. Erik, as he had predicted he would, was running headlong up the stairs towards Charles, taking two at a time.

"Hello?" he asked tentatively into the phone.

"Hello?" Came the hesitant response. The voice was female, young, but as solemn as Erik when he was in one his moods. "Is this Professor X?" Charles mind spun for an adequate answer. He could deny it, but what did it matter? His voice was on televisions all over the world. He was relatively sure he would be recognized.

"Yes," he replied reluctantly.

"Ah," he heard the relief. "Good. You're a very hard man to track, Professor," she didn't sound dangerous, but Charles knew that voices could be faked. Erik thundered down the hallway towards him."My name is Eliza Worthington. I'm a big fan of yours," she didn't sound very fan-girlish, but Charles decided this was unimportant.

"How did you get this number, Ms. Worthington?" he asked as Erik stuck his head in the door. All of the metal in Charles's room vibrated. He waved a hand impatiently, signaling _knock it off._

"It's a long story. Suffice to say I went through some of your father's records. I knew him once, you know," that explained the English accent. Charles hated this person more and more by the minute; especially since she had known his father. "Anyway, I'm sorry to bother you Mr. Xavier. I know you must be very busy, but I have a proposition for you," Erik grabbed a chair and sat it down in front of Charles, the back facing him. Then Erik plopped into it, studying his face keenly.

"Who is it?" he mouthed. Charles gave a brief shrug, twirling the telephone wire around his finger nervously.

He struggled to keep his voice calm, unemotional. "Really?" He asked.

"Yes," Eliza continued. "You see, my husband and I- his name is John-are mutants. I have the healing ability; he has biological growth. So he makes my flowers grow. We had this idea and I suppose I just… Well…" She sounded sheepish now. "We need your help to make it a reality, Professor," she told him. Charles was still baffled.

"Forgive me Ms. Worthington, but…What _is_ the idea? I can't very well help if I have no clue what you're talking about," Erik cocked his eyebrows.

"What do they want?" he mouthed again. Charles sent him an irritated glance, a sharp retort firing from the annals of his mind.

 _Would I have asked if I knew, Erik?_

"A school," Eliza burst out. "Or, _schools,_ to be more exact. We wanted to create schools for mutant children all over the country. The _world_. Places where they could learn how to use their powers and embrace their differences. So many children are afraid or ashamed of their gifts Professor, as you well know. And now that a Mutant Movement has started up, we thought that now is as good a time as any," the irony of the situation was not lost upon Charles.

He stayed silent for a long span of time in which Erik seemed to grow ever more impatient and Eliza sighed nervously on the other end. He had the distinct feeling that she was twiddling her thumbs in apprehension just as much as they were-though for very different reasons.

At length, though, his caller could stand little more of being ignored. "Professor?" She asked. Charles snapped out of his déjà vu with a shake of his head.

"Forgive me Ms. Worthington," he said, finally relaxing into his seat. He nodded at Erik and sent out the call to the rest of the house.

 _All safe._

"Your idea is wonderful. I would certainly fund such a thing," he was under no illusions about what sort of help she was asking for. She had known his father after all. She had to know he was wealthy. "Tell me, what name would these institutions have?" he asked. He could feel her smiling one the other end.

"Well, Professor, we were thinking to call them The X-Men Schools for Mutant Youth."

"I'm listening."


	26. Chapter 26

**_Two months later:_**

"The day has arrived, ladies and gentlemen. We have camera crews all over the area looking into the newest phenomenon that has been added to the Mutant scene! Holly, can you hear me?"

The camera swiveled. Then there was Holly. Standing amidst a crowd of eager spectators, some of them chanting "we hate mutants!" while others screamed ferociously "mutant and proud!" Emma folded her legs neatly, wrapping the towel around her wet locks more securely.

"Indeed I can Jim!" Holly called over the noise.

"Tell our viewers what's going on!" Jim commanded.

"Well, Jim, I am currently in Boston, Massachusetts attending the grand opening of the first X-Men school for Mutant Youngsters! This building behind me has been in-construction for nearly two months. As you can see, it's a small building, white bricks and little more than an old baseball field for a playground but the Mutant community in the area has gone wild with excitement for its finish!" Emma scrubbed the wetness from her hair, rolling her eyes at the droll tone of voice Holly had. Couldn't she speak in something besides factual monotone?

"What's the purpose of this building, Holly?" Jim asked with all the patience of either a Saint or a very boring man.

"Well, Jim," Holly replied with the intelligence of Socrates or the simple-mindedness of a toad. "This building is the first in a long chain of schools being built around the country and even in some pockets of the U.K. The school was begun by two mutants named Eliza and John Worthington. The X-Men schools are for teaching young mutants how to embrace the implications of their altered DNA, and use their powers constructively for the good of all. You should see the crowds here Jim. There are over 1500 people all awaiting the arrival of Mutant-kinds greatest heroes!"

"Who would that be, Holly?" Emma picked up a brush, running it through her hair.

"Can he ask some relevant questions?" Raven called from where she was blow-drying her own hair in Emma's bathroom.

"I want to know if her name is really Holly and his is really Jim!" Alejandro called from outside the room. "He sounds more like a Steve and she sounds like a Cindy!" Emma grunted in agreement, picking out a tangled knot in her hair. Ireland's climate did _not_ agree with her hair.

"Well, Jim, according to our sources…"  
"What sources?" Logan wondered.

"Whatever corrupted cesspool the media can find to tell them stuff," Erik replied cynically.

"The X-Men themselves are scheduled to show up for the grand opening! It makes sense, considering that the schools were named in their honor,"

Emma gave her hair a last scrub with the towel. The glistening wet strands stuck to her shoulders. "I want a bikini line named in my honor," she muttered. Raven heard and burst out laughing.

"But better yet Jim; the X-Men are only scheduled to be _escorting_ Professor X along with his own train of students. As anyone who has heard his speeches can testify, Professor X has his own collection of adopted mutant children that he keeps in a secret location. But he has promised to bring them out for the public's eyes; it will be _they_ who will cut the ribbon inviting mutant children from all over the U.S to be the first inside of this epic compound!"

 _Even if it was never Professor X's idea and he hates the plan with every fiber in his being._ That was Raven's though, bitter and amused at the same time. She still held resentment towards her brother, for what crime Emma didn't know. She didn't want to know, really. Half of her agreed with Charles, that bringing the children from behind the safe bars of the mansion was too dangerous. The other half, though, was ruthless in her execution of Mutant rights. The children would send a good message to the humans, as Erik had pointed out.

"I see. Do I hear protestors, Holly?" Holly turned and gestured towards one-half of the crowd being held back by policemen as they tried to surge past to the other side of the street and consequently the mutants there.

"Indeed, Jim!"

"I keep telling you: his name is _totally_ Steve!"

"About half of this crowd seems to be humans protesting the creation of the school on the basis of mutants being 'freaks of nature,' as the term goes. Several anti-mutant societies have already set up grounds here, passing out flyers and protesting _loudly._ If the police weren't here, I'm afraid this demonstration of education might quickly turn into a bloodbath!" Emma exhaled a slow breath, easing the anxiety from her chest. A bloodbath alright, and they were bringing the _children_ into this?

"But on the other side Jim, the Mutant Equality Movement has come to support the creation of this school. Mutants and liberal minded humans from all over have flocked to this location, also shepherded by police," she gestured to the other side of the street. Emma saw a flash of green skin and scales, and up above signs painted in colorful fonts. "I have to say, whether you're against or for it, I get the feeling everyone wants to get a glimpse of Mutant-kinds latest soldiers this day!"

"When is it scheduled to begin, Holly?"

"In half an hour, Jim, our guest stars should be arriving!"

"Dangit," Emma cursed beneath her breath. "Half an hour," and they were still in Ireland. She finally clipped the metal hairclip into her hair, her fingers momentarily touching the small little wasp sitting there.

 _"_ _For your stinging wit,"_ Erik had whispered when he gave it to her for the Fourth. Emma never went anywhere without it. With that done, she rushed into the bathroom and plucked the hair blower from Raven's hand. "Almost time to go," she told her. The shape-shifter nodded and smoothed down red curls obstinately.

"Damn weather," she grumbled.

"X-Men!" That was Erik calling. After some initial frustration that they had not been able to decide their own names, the team had settled down and actually…Emma kind o liked it. It had a ring to it that sounded dangerous, intense, but did not reek of condescension. It was a simple name, for a simple group of idiots engaged in a bet between two stubborn men.

Emma and Raven came from their own room to the larger area where Erik wore his Magneto's helmet. Emma frowned. She hated that thing. It reminded her of Shaw, his lies, his promises, his cruelty. Besides, she couldn't read a lick of Erik's mind with him wearing it. He didn't usually wear it, it impeded his fighting, but today he wanted to look _distinguished._

"Are we sure that's you there chief? Can't see your face beneath the metal can over your eyes," Logan seemed to share her sentiments as he waltzed into the main room, followed by Azazel, and Riptide. Erik glowered at him but did not answer. He knew better than to engage in a contest of wits with Wolverine.

"Listen up everyone," Erik commanded as they gathered around him. "You all know that this is an important day. You also know that one of the humans is probably going to try to ruin it," they all nodded with certainty. Charles may not have thought so, but they knew better.

"So keep your eyes open and your senses alert. Hopefully, the media will be too engaged with Charles and the kids to pester us, but if they do, don't answer anything. And remember, we don't know the others beyond casual acquaintance," he instructed.

Riptide raised his hand. He was hanging around with Sean too much. "Oh yeah, why are we doing that again?" he asked.

"Because for right now, our name and association with _Professor X_ is purely coincidental, and its best to keep it that way. If the people knew we're all associated, it will give the humans ammunition to use against us. Saying we've been plotting this together or something," Raven explained thoroughly.

"We have," Ivan pointed out.

"Yes, but no one else needs to know that. For now, The X-Men and Professor X know little more than each other's names. Got it?" They all nodded.

"Good. Then let's get into the Blackbird and get out of here before the girls' hair attacks us all," the boys snickered at Emma and Raven's suffering. The two of them glared back, Emma delivering painful psychic lashes in retribution. Erik grinned, escaping her wrath happily. So Raven punched him in the arm.

Emma grinned and stood akimbo. "Good," she praised Raven.

"X-Men, let's move out."

* * *

"This is so _cool_!" Scott cried as he stretched to look out of the window. The van escorting them rushed past the lines of people-some protesting, others cheering-on the streets of Boston. In the back seats, most of the children, barring Jean, who was struggling to keep her telepathic shields up, were also craning their necks to look out.

"Professor, Professor, Professor!" The mutants and the humans like them chanted as the van rolled past.

"They're calling your name, professor!" Warren pointed out excitedly. It had been months since any of the children had been outside of the mansion. That was half the reason Charles has agreed to this in the first place _._

 _"_ _Don't you remember being locked up in that prison?"_ Raven had argued, hitting in the spot that still ached. _"One day they'll have to leave Charles; do you want them to be ready for that day or not?"_ He did, but more than that he wanted to keep them safe. It was all he had ever wanted. Which was why Erik had agreed to have the X-Men attend the ceremony, but half of Charles was starting to regret it. It wasn't safe out here.

He glanced at Hank from the passenger seat, driving the car with smooth calm, but Charles could see his large hands clenched tightly around the wheel. He, too, knew the danger that they could face here, but he was trying to appear brave for the others. "Look at how huge that flag is guys!" Alex told them, pointing to a passing flag pole, which had the American stars and stripes flapping in the breeze. The flag was probably thirty feet wide and ten feet in length.

"Wow!" The children cried as one, before bursting into giggles. After months of being cooped in one house together, their bonds of friendship and siblinghood were strong. It made Charles grin.

"When are we going to get there, Hank?" Sean called from the very back, also craning his head to look out of the window. Charles knew that none of his original students had been to Boston before, and were just as interested in the landscape and people. The state, also as far as Charles had researched, was composed of a good number of anti-mutant societies, but a larger number of supportive Mutant Equality Movement members, now calling themselves MEM.

"In about fifteen minutes," Hank replied over his shoulder.

"Hey Charles, why does Hank get to drive?"Alex demanded.

"Because I trust him not to run over innocent pedestrians!" Charles answered factually, causing a stream of giggles to erupt from the back seat. He smiled and pressed a finger to his forehead.

 _Moira, Michael,_ he called to the two scouts already at the festivities. They had left two hours before to survey the crowds. _How are things there?_

 _Well, besides being a bit offended that the_ _ **humans**_ _were given scouting duty, I'm fine,_ Michael reported, grumpy because he had not been able to nab a breakfast.

Moira was of more help. _Nothing out of the ordinary, Charles. I have found no one with a significant weapon. Nothing that we can't handle, anyway,_ meaning that the weapons there could easily be destroyed using their powers. Charles nodded.

 _Good. Eliza and John?_

 _Arrived a few minutes ago. They're shaking hands now with the MEM leaders. Do you want me to keep an eye on them?_

 _Yes, please. They're good people,_ even if they had known his father which he found quite irritating considering the fact that they were under the impression that he had been a good and trustworthy man Charles was a lot like him, in their opinion.

He shuddered to think of it.

 _What about Erik and the others?_ He felt her search the clear blue sky.

 _I don't see the Black Bird. I suppose they're still in Ireland._ They would be late.

 _Very well. We'll see you there._

 _See you, and Charles? Stop worrying!_ He smiled ruefully. That was easier said than done. Breaking off the connection, Charles turned partially in his seats t address his students.

"Now, does everyone remember the rules?" he wondered, his voice breaking into the animated conversations. The children gave him exasperated looks which clearly stated 'you've told us a million times already,' but managed to grumble out:

" _Yes_ , Professor."

"Good," he would say them again, just in case. "Someone is to be with Kitty at all times. Always travel in groups of two, everyone," he did a quick head count to make sure they were as even as they had been two minutes ago. Ten, not counting him and Hank. Good. Five groups of two. He loved even numbers.

"There will be plenty of people with cameras asking you questions. If you don't know the answer, it is alright to tell them so…"

"Or you could say no comment!" Kitty burst out, having seen this on the television. The others smiled indulgently. Charles chuckled.

"Or that, yes. Scott, don't let anyone take off your glasses for any reason. Ororo, if they ask for a demonstration, please, no lightning. Perhaps summon a cloud. Jean, no reading minds. Bobby, no freezing toes. Rogue, I would just tell them about your power, not demonstrate it. Though you have come along brilliantly in your training. Soon, you'll be able to touch someone without draining them, I know it," he told her when she bowed her head. The others patted her on the shoulders soothingly.

"Warren, no flying people about even if you're _sure_ you can do it," he warned when Warren opened his mouth to object. "Kitty, do not go _through_ people without permission. Remember not to call the others,"-meaning the X-Men-" by their real names, but codenames. And if anyone asks where you live, do not tell them. _Anyone_. Understood?" Firm nods all around. He had stressed this point most of all.

"And most of all," he finally let a smile take over his face as Hank drove up to front of the streets. Policemen surrounded their car, trying to keep the milling crowd of admirers and enemies alike from getting into the van.

Charles blessed them. "Have _fun_. Many of these people will be genuinely glad to meet you. You might make some new friends today so mind your manners! And many humans are merely curious about your powers. This is your time to show off what you've learned. Now," he unbuckled himself. Hank jumped out of the driver's seat, coming around to the other side with his wheelchair. "Off you go! You'll be in here the entire time," he promised, tapping his forehead as he opened the door.

Instantly, he was blinded by the flash of cameras near his face. The deafening sound of people cheering and booing met his ears. Charles forced a smile onto his face as Hank wrapped an arm around his waist, gently helping him into the wheelchair. Charles, once again, cursed the immobile sticks that he called his legs. They were of little help. Once he had sat in the wheelchair, Hank opened the back doors, letting out a flood of lively mutant children. The cameras flashed and the voices of media were raised.

"Xavier's kids! Xavier's kids! Take a look over here!"

 _I love how they name_ _ **everything**_ _after me_ , he thought to Hank dryly. The gentle giant chuckled softly, getting his normal position of behind Charles to push him forward between the two rows of people. Charles, as was usual, felt a pang of guilt that Hank was forced to cart him around everywhere. The children got into a line behind him like ducklings, two by two. He could see them waving at the crowds.

Suddenly, the sky opened overhead, making a deep whirring noise as it did so. The Black Bird came out of cloaking mode, showing a sleek black ship soaring through the air. The crowd gasped. The children grinned. They saw that ship more often than anyone else. With exquisite preciseness, the ship floated above the crowds, the air being stirred by the ship sweltering and stifling. Charles held his breath, not wanting to breathe in fumes. The crowd didn't seem to care. The screaming doubled in intensity on both sides.

"Mutants, go home!"

"X-Men! X-Men! X-Men!"

The hatchway opened, revealing the X-Men themselves _. I see that autopilot is working,_ Hank thought with satisfaction as the ship hovered above without anyone to control it. Erik levitated himself down using the metal transcribed all over his body. Raven front-flipped to the ground, reminding Charles very much of a jungle cat with her intensity and flexibility.

Riptide lowered himself and Emma on a swirling tornado while Azazel merely transported himself and Logan down. With the X-Men on the ground, the Black bird's autopilot kicked in and suddenly it turned tail and flew back into the sky.

The X-Men (Charles chuckled whenever he thought of their name) spread out, keeping themselves for the most part on the side of the mutant haters, in between the hateful humans and the children. Charles had to turn away when he saw one scraggly bearded man spit into Logan's face.

Wolverine turned away, his face scrunched in disgust. Charles could feel his metal claws trying to break free, kept in check only by Logan's will. Charles was relieved. They didn't need an episode right now, and he predicted the only thing stopping Logan from creating one was his respect for Erik's command not too.

Said person was coming towards Charles. The media that had rushed towards him backed away without word; something about Erik's aura scaring them off. Charles could not help but feel proud of his friend's calm authority. He was towering, magnificent, calm, like a thundercloud rolling over the hills. And he was…

 _Emma,_ he called to the telepath. _Why in the world is Erik wearing that ridiculous head ornament?_ She didn't even glance at him when she replied.

 _Because he thinks it makes him look distinguished,_ she told him. Charles studied Erik wonderingly; but finally came to the same conclusion as a moment before.

 _He looks like an idiot,_ he decided.

A small smile tickled at the edges of Emma's mouth. _That's what we told him,_ she agreed.

As if he knew that they were somehow talking about him behind his back Erik stopped in front of Charles, eyes narrowed. "Professor X," he greeted lightly enough. There was amusement sparkling in his eyes. Charles dipped his head, giving Hank a nod when the other asked with his eyes if Charles would be alright there.

"Magneto. Thank you for coming," he replied politely;as if he hadn't just seen Erik a month ago.

"Of course. How are your students fairing?" He was about to check up on that right now.

Charles flared his senses out, enjoying the sight of the media pestering someone else for a change. They had already found Kitty and Sean. Sean was uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes vigilant.

"What's your name, honey?" One of the camera ladies asked. Kitty, dressed in a bright yellow sundress, twirled around with excess energy.

"Kitty," she said, smiling shyly. She held up her hand. "I'm this many," she told the camera, flashing five fingers. "I know about the solar system!" Kitty burst out before anyone could ask her what she did. "Wanna see? There are twelve planets. I can name all of them: Muto and Plars and Septune and Nuranus and…" She seemed affronted by the multitude of people giggling at the incorrect names. Charles smiled. _Good job, Kitty. Keep being cute._

Scott and Alex both looked _splendid_ in their matching tee-shirts and jeans. "We're brothers," Alex was telling the media. "So our powers are similar."

"What are they?

"Bro?"

Scott waved the people away. "You might want to stand back," he cautioned. The reporters rushed to comply. Where two of them had been standing a moment before, Scott looked down and promptly carved a smiley face into the cement on the ground. And Alex, his lasers coming from his arms this time; managed to draw a head of curly hair around the smiling head. The mutants on one side cheered.

 _You're doing great, boys._

Cassidy and Warren had their pairs of wings extended for the crowd to admire. "Can you really fly?" One of the reporters asked Warren.

He put his hands in his pockets and smiled mysteriously. "Yep," he popped.

"How high up?" He and Cassidy exchanged an unsure glance.

"As high as we want, really," she replied.

"Can you show us?"

Cassidy smiled and offered her hand. "Warren?" He took it and with a whoop the two had taken off into the sky, diving like seagulls. The reporters applauded delightedly. Charles chuckled.

 _Beautifully done, you two._

Jean and Marie were standing side by side, beaming. "What can you do?"

"I'm a telekinetic telepath, like the Professor," Jean told them proudly. Charles smiled, remembering a time when she had been terrified to let this fact slip out. "He's teaching me everything he knows," she said.

"There seem to be a lot of telepaths walking around today," the reporter observed, glancing at Emma. Upon hearing this, the blonde woman appeared behind Jean.

"Telepaths are a rare mutation," she told the media lyrically. "I think you've got the only three in this courtyard today," some gasps were heard. Jean smiled. "Besides, Jean is also _telekinetic._ Meaning what Jean?" The fiery haired girl grinned and raised a hand. Slowly, a few pebbled raised off the ground and begun to spin in wide circles.

 _Way to go girls. And Marie-never forget you're mutation is a gift too._ He felt her gratitude at his words, even if he knew she felt a bit left out.

Ororo and Bobby were having fun creating blizzards. "Here you go," Bobby offered a small piece of ice shaped like a flower to a little girl on the mutant side. She grinned at him happily, her eyes bright with joy at having received the gift. "It's too hot," Bobby announced to the reporters.

"Who wants snow?" He snapped his fingers and a few flurries danced from his skin. Ororo's eyes glowed white and the winds swept them along the crowd. A few people opened their mouths to catch the snowflakes, cheering.

 _Extravagant. Moira, Michael, are you seeing this?_

 _They're extraordinary children._

 _I told you it would all be fine, Charles._ He supposed she had. He turned back to Erik. "My students are well, thank you," he told him reassuringly. Erik gave a grave nod-eyes dancing- just as Eliza and John finally found their way to Charles's side.

"Professor!" Eliza cried, bending down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. John came forward then, grinning and carrying a large pair of scissors on his shoulder. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a mere gardener, not the starter of a mutant school. And Eliza looked perhaps like an elementary teacher, not

"Hello there Professor. Magneto. We're so glad to see you," he chirped amiably as he shook Erik's hand.

"Hello there John. Are you about to cut the ribbon?" Charles inquired, indicating the long blue ribbon stretched across the entrance to the school. Above the door, a sign was posted, designed and created by Erik as a gift to the school. The words _X-Men school for Mutant Youngsters_ was engraved into the metal in shining silver colors.

"We were hoping that Magneto would," Eliza admitted, turning to Erik. His face registered surprise.

"Me?" he asked as the scissors were offered to him.

"The school _is_ named after your team," Charles pointed out amusedly, as the reporters noticed the scissors and fairly abandoned his students in their rush to get the best picture spot. Erik cast him a suspicious glance.

"My team was named after _you_ ," he griped. Charles grinned impishly.

"Details, details," he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Come on!" Jean cried as the children all gathered around excitedly. The mutants on the sidelines all pressed close to the fences and policemen, craning their necks to get a glimpse of the epic cutting. Even the protestors went silent, watching. The only sound was of that of flashing cameras and the occasional whisper.

Erik glanced around, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Do it, do it!" Kitty encouraged, jumping up and down. The X-Men cast him curious looks, wondering if he actually would. After a long hesitance- in which Charles knew every bad deed and unreported death weighed heavily in Erik's mind- he took the scissors from John's hand and walked towards the ribbon. With a simple but eloquent wave of his wave and clench of his fist, he commanded the metal to _cut._

The ribbon floated to the ground, light as a feather.

Charles took Kitty's hand and moved out of the way quickly as the crowd was let out. Mutants and humans alike all poured into the tiny compound, led by Eliza and John on the first ever tour. Charles grinned.

 _This_ was the first step to peace.

 _Stay, all of you,_ he directed his sneaky students before they could step foot inside the building. _You are to go nowhere that Moira cannot see you._ He trusted her to shoot if so anyone so much as touched a single hair on anyone's head. He caught defiant thoughts, especially from Alex and Sean, but their outsides stayed well shrouded in smiles.

He let it go and watched as the students headed back over to the lines remaining; now being asked various questions by MEM leaders and other mutants. Erik had vanished from his side, curiously heading into the compound. Logan and Emma were speaking to reporters while Raven, Alejandro and Ivan were still keeping smooth watch on the human protestors, who were now screaming louder than ever words of pure hatred.

"We don't want any freaks around here!"

"Go home, mutant scum!"

"You don't belong here!"

"I'll kill every last single one of you!"

"Devil _spawn_!" That one sent a jolt of memory down Charles's spine. He shivered involuntarily, suddenly very cold. He saw Raven glance at him from the corner of her eye. There was anger in her gaze, but not directed at him for once. She, too, recognized the name that had been used to torment him for so very long. So she felt it too, felt his pain. The brother and sister nodded to each other. Raven turned back to the protestors, sharp eyes watching them vigilantly.

But a few minutes later (peaceful minutes in which the media were too occupied with his students to care for him much) Charles still felt an itch at the back of his neck, tickles of apprehension that made him uncomfortable.

 _Emma,_ he said to her. _Do you feel anything strange?_ She didn't break off from her cheerful conversation though her psychic voice was worried.

 _I do. Something is wrong._

He agreed. There was a disturbance in someone's mind, a tendril of malice creeping along the walls of their psyche. Intelligent, dangerous malice. Charles could not pinpoint who, or where, but he knew that it did not spell out good things for the people here.

 _Keep an eye on the children_ , he ordered. _I'm going to find Erik,_ what Erik could do Charles didn't know, but he would feel better if he had track of _all_ his friends. Only Erik was inconsiderate enough of his feelings to make Charles follow him instead of just leaving his mind open for communication like everyone else in the world.

But no, he just _had_ to be distinguished. The bloody idiot.

Charles wheeled himself into the compound. It was brimming with mutant children and parents, humans who had brought their mutant family members here and were now staring around with joy on their faces. True, the building was a tiny one-story white bricked _space._

The walls were decorated with encouraging and inspirational flyers and posters courtesy of the MEM. School supplies such as globes, pencils and paper had been the public's doing while larger things such as cameras, fire extinguishers (he had _insisted_ on it, remembering his own training with Alex) practice dummies and books had been his contribution.

Charles grinned when he saw the smaller gifts from his own students. The beaded bracelets and necklaces Ororo had made sitting on the counter; Bobby's ice sculpture standing in the cooler room; the baseballs that Scott and Warren had collected and donated; Kitty's play-do creations. It was a rather _rag-tag_ affair, but Charles was still stopped several times and thanked sincerely.

Finally, mutants and their families could get help to manage their powers; could have a refuge such as the mansion was for them. He felt his own eyes burn at the joy he felt, but continued on with humble salutations. The bad feeling was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up; by the eighth thanks, he was almost _desperate_ to find Erik. He found him in one of the side rooms towards the back of the building, listening to another mutant with green skin describe his powers.

"So, your tongue is like a frog's?" he was asking curiously.

"Yep," the other man popped, with a large grin that exposed sharp predatory teeth. Erik was undisturbed.

"How far does it extend?"

"About nine feet,"

" _Nine_ feet!? How strong is it?"

"Oh, I've picked up about twenty pounds of weight with it before. It creeps out the neighbors but I… Oh, Professor X!" The other man cried, staring at Charles with hero-worship. Charles gave him a brief smile.

"Hello my friend. Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked, planting a small suggestion in the man's mind to _go away._

"A ton! Hey, look at this over here!" Now completely fascinated with a standard camera, the mutant dashed away. Worked every time. Charles turned to Erik.

"Profess…"

"Do you sense anything odd in here?" Charles demanded, interrupting the fake greeting. Erik blinked, taken aback by the harsh tone. But he narrowed his focus, mind turning to the metal within the compound. He closed his eyes, feeling, searching. Charles's bad feeling grew worse. Something was about to happen. He could _feel_ it…

Despite the helmet on his head, Charles felt Erik's quick flash of pure _terror_ spike through him. "Dammit!" Erik cursed as his eyes flew open, exposing eyes wide with alarm.

"EVERYONE, GET DOWN!" He suddenly screamed, diving for Charles. Not even a second later, Charles felt an explosion _rock_ the ground beneath his feet followed by the raucous sound of people screaming and rock _crumbling_. He cried out as several lives were decimated before his psyche. A flying brick smashed against his skull before the full effects of the pain could register.

Then he saw nothing.


	27. Chapter 27

Erik's first instinct- total, aching instinct- was to protect Charles. As if it were ingrained into the fibers of his being and the blood in his veins, Erik threw a hand up, calling upon his power without consciously realizing it while the rest of his body provided an ample shield.

Oddly enough, Charles had also grabbed him in a tight hold reminiscent of the one which had spelled the end of his walking days long ago on the beaches of Cuba. A flying brick hit him upside the head-Erik saw it right before an airborne brick hit _him_ upside the head. His helmet made a long _booonnnggg_ noise like a gong before flying off.

Thanks to Erik's quick reaction, the two men were encased in a cocoon of metal wires from the air system in the roof. They were feeble protection, held in place mainly by Erik's force of will. Erik heard the sounds of brick and rock crumbling, heard the crash of debris falling and the screams of people as they were crushed beneath the weight of a building.

At the back of his mind, the word _bomb_ resonated. He did not have time to worry about it. His vision was blurry, his mind consumed by the need to keep his feeble shelter of metal upright as an entire _building_ fell on top of it, if only to shield the unconscious Charles. At length, just when he had begun to despair that his strength wasn't enough, the sound of collapsing ended, followed by the distant noise of more people gasping and screaming from the outside.

Erik dropped to his knees, allowing his trembling arms to fall to his sides as he did so. The metal wires flopped lifelessly to the ground, exposing them to blinding sunlight.

"Charles?" he reached for the person next to him blindly, still upright in his wheelchair. His hand touched unresponsive legs. The world was spinning dizzily. He hung his head, gasping. For the _love_ of… He suddenly felt very nauseous and if that were not enough, every muscle in his body trembled with exertion. "Charles?" Still, he had to see if Charles was alright.

He felt a trembling hand grab his own. The other hand went to the back of his neck, squeezing gently. Erik sighed in relief as a flood of relieving warmth cascaded into his mind, pushing away the wooziness and restoring energy to his aching limbs. He looked up, the world coming into focus.

Charles was staring back at him anxiously. His chocolate hair had flecks of brick dust in it. The side of his temple was bleeding from where the brick had hit him; his gaze was unfocused, glassy. He probably had a concussion. Still, Erik could feel Charles's concern for him keenly. Bloody idiot was worrying about others again.

"Erik? Are you alright?" His voice was slurred. Definite concussion.

Erik stood shakily and nodded, dusting himself off. Brick dust was all over him too. His knees were raw and tender from being pushed into the cement by the weight of a building. He didn't even _know_ where his helmet had gone too. "I'm fine," his eyes scanned the area around them.

He and Charles stood inside of a circle of cleanness. Around them, the rubble of the building sat like the ruins of some great and ancient city, crushed and hollow. He heard moans and coughs from the settling dust. He cringed as he saw arms and legs twisted from beneath boulders of building, still. He had seen enough death to know that there would be no help for those bodies. There were splatters of blood everywhere, the air stunk of death and suffering.

He gulped and looked down at Charles. The telepath was also staring around with the wide-eyed gaze of a deer caught by headlights in the middle of the road, shocked and scared of the instant annihilation to come. It occurred to Erik that Charles could probably _feel_ the pain of those around him.

Outside of the rubble, the policemen were trying to wrangle the terrified crowd away from the rubble- and away from each other, for some mutants had begun to point fingers and some humans had begun to do the same.

How could they even _think_ of that right now?

"Where are the others?" Charles's alarmed voice gasped. Erik swiveled around, looking for them.

He heard Emma's voice first, and it was like that of an angel. "We're here," he looked in the general direction of _here_ and saw them all huddled in a corner, having raced to grab each other like he had raced to grab Charles, shielded by each other and by others. Emma stood in her diamond form over Sean, who was covering Jean and Rogue with his own body. They unraveled at the call, like a pill bug unfurling from his circular protection.

Azazel poofed back into existence next to Logan, whose six claws glinted in the sunlight. He was gasping, his body a shield for Riptide, Ororo and Bobby. Fragments of his skin had been blown away by the debris. It was healing quickly, the skin flowing over the wounds like rubber stretched over holes.

There was blood on Alex's back, but he didn't seem to notice. His arms were wrapped tight around Cassidy and Scott, face hidden in their tight circle as his back was to the recent explosion. Hank and Raven rested next to them, Hank's own arms encasing Raven and Kitty. Erik did a quick mental check as they all stood, moaning, noticing cuts and bruises. Was that everyone?

Moira and Michael appeared out of the dust settling outside of the rubbled circle, eyes anxious. "Are you two alright?" Michael asked, already stepping over the fallen scraps of building towards them.

Charles wasn't paying any attention. "Where's Warren?" he demanded, the tense calmness he was forcing obscured by panic. The question reached the ears of the others. They all looked up and around, paling in unison. Warren wasn't in their small group. The mutants around them did likewise. The policemen glanced over their shoulders searchingly. Even the fighting humans and mutants fell silent, turning to each other quizzically as if to ask the same question. Charles's panic was bleeding into their own psyches. And then…

"LET GO OF ME!"

Erik swiveled so fast that the world spun again, but he forced it into realignment in order to properly see the poor idiot who he was going to kill as soon as…

The first thing that he noticed was that the criminal was wearing _his_ helmet. It had a large dent in it from the brick, but it was still intact, the menacing metal gleaming at him mockingly from the sun. The next thing he noticed was that the wretched _Neanderthal_ had Warren seized firmly against his chest.

The boy's left wing was bent at an awkward angle, skewed slightly to the left and then steeply vertical. It looked painful. The other one was folded down at another awkward angle. His hair was mussed with brick dust and there was a long gash on his right bicep. Warren was pulling at the thick muscular arm around his chest, kicking as the man backed away towards the human protestors. The third- and most terrifying thing- he noticed was that he held a knife to Warren's neck.

A knife.

All of these things took him seconds to observe; though it felt like centuries, and when he noticed that he was helpless a deep pit of horror lodged in his gut. Charles's sudden clutching _fear_ swept through him like a tidal wave of cold dread, followed by several cries of horror and gasps from the crowd.

The protestors grinned, manically. The policemen- a few of them- instantly had their guns pointed at him. The X-Men all took a step forward. He saw Logan's claws shoot out and Alex's hands glow with fearsome heat. Moira suddenly had a gun out, pointed directly at the head of the kidnapper and no hesitance in her eyes.

"Stay back!" the deranged man yelled, as he brandished the knife at them before placing it firmly next to Warren's neck. Everyone halted; eyes wide.

" _Erik_ ," Charles said urgently under his breath, Erik shook his head.

"It's… I can't feel any metal in it, Charles. It doesn't have metal properties. I can't _do_ anything…" he told him helplessly. Charles gave him a brief look of horror before turning back to the scene. Warren was deathly pale, but still he struggled vainly. The man was backing slowly towards the safety of the protesting mob. Erik's gut clenched.

He glanced at Azazel, who was staring straight at him waiting for a command. Erik gave a single nod. _Do it._

Azazel vanished in a puff of silent red smoke, reappearing a second later behind the kidnapper. He raised an arm, about to smash his skull open with trained arms, when suddenly he cried out. Erik heard the whirring noise of electricity and saw that from behind Azazel another anti-mutant protestor had brought out a taser. Azazel jerked several times, eyes wide before falling to the ground, twitching.

"Take that, _freak_ ," the protestor sneered before placing a hand on the kidnapper's shoulder and aiming the taser at the rest of the crowd. It was a stand-off, with the kidnapper's back to the supporters of mutant death and in his hands one of their students.

"Stay back!" the kidnapper warned again, eyes swiveling between Erik and Charles and the others. "Or else he dies!" he pressed the knife closer to Warren's neck. Warren flinched away, causing the knife to scrape his skin. A trickle of blood escaped. Erik's heart burned an inferno of rage.

Charles spoke. "Please," he pleaded softly. "He is only a child," he didn't take his eyes from the blade at Warren's neck.

"He's an abomination," the blonde-haired man hissed. He turned to the other bystanders, mutant and human alike trembled and backed away beneath his gaze. "Mutants are a disease upon humanity, a scourge sent by the heavens to test us!" he cried, voice ringing out in the silent square.

"But I will not fail this test. They either need to be killed or cured. I will find a cure, and everything will go back to normal," many mutants cringed upon hearing this. The human haters on the other side nodded approvingly.

"You need not worry about the boy," he then said to Charles, with a mocking nod of politeness. "He's going to help me discover a cure to the _disgusting_ disease which makes you lot different from the rest of us," Erik's felt his heart skip a beat. His breath hitched as the implications of what the man was describing flashed to mind.

Experimentation.

Warren would live the life he had as a boy. The thought was unbearable to him. He bit his tongue to stop a current of curses from running loose as the monster who had captured his boy bent down to whisper in Warren's ear: "How does that sound, son? Like fun?"

Warren glanced at him, cringing, trying to yank his ear away. His eyes were filled with terror. He, too, knew what the man meant. His deep blue eyes found Charles's as the man began to back towards the anti-mutant crowd once more.

Warren flung an arm towards the one person who meant safety to him in a mute entreaty for rescue. _"Professor_!" he screamed in a plaintive plea for help that cut straight to Erik's heart.

A silver tear ran down Emma's face. Cassidy let out a small cry of despair, covering her mouth as she dropped to her knees as if it were her own child being taken. Alex, Sean and Hank all turned their faces away as if they could not bear to watch, fists clenched so hard Erik could see them trembling from where they were. Logan growled deep in his throat. Moira's gun faltered. The children gripped the nearest adult, silently crying.

Erik didn't dare look down at Charles's face for fear that what he might see there would break his heart more. He could _feel_ Charles's desperate dread flowing through him, the tightly held control on his emotions and telepathy now lost as Charles beheld one of his students being forcibly dragged away to a fate worse than death.

And there was nothing any of them could do.

"Bon voyage, my…!" The air shifted as suddenly a lithe body shot from the mass of anti-mutant protestors with all the speed of a flying missile. The blur was a woman with a thin wooden baseball bat, which she promptly smashed against the skull of first the man with the taser and then the kidnapper. The first fell, the latter stumbled, releasing hid hold on Warren.

"Get the _hell_ away from that child!" she hissed viciously, her fierce words belied by the fact that she was trembling so much that she dropped the baseball bat. It clattered on the hard cement next to the other man. Upon noticing the futileness of the weapon now, the kidnapper reared back into a standing position, eyes ablaze with fury. "Why you little…!" he raised a fist to strike. The woman let out a squeak of fear and swiftly turned, shielding Warren with her own body, but the strike never came for out of the anti-mutant crowd came the strangest thing…

A mutant.

His skin was glowing in the sunlight. He was purely silver, and according to Erik's itching powers, he was made of metal. He grabbed the fist reared; face a stony mask of apathetic rage. The kidnapper looked up, stunned. Fear flickered in his eyes as the mutant made a growling noise.

"Don't. Touch. My. Sister!" Then, pleasing Erik immensely, he delivered a swift punch to the face that led to a grating noise and spurt of blood from the kidnappers' now broken nose. The Neanderthal collapsed, writhing in pain on the ground. The humans on the other side backed away, eyes trained on the giant metal man warily. He looked around for more opponents, obviously expecting more of a fight.

He got none. The woman looked up from where she had fallen on her knees to protect Warren. Her gray eyes were filled with concern. "Are you alright, sweetie?" she asked softly. Warren was sobbing quietly, but he managed to nod. He was frantically trying to wipe his tears away.

"Warren!" That was Cassidy jumping to her feet. She raced over to the two. Warren looked up and promptly left the woman to land in her arms, crying. Charles's breath of relief was shared by most everyone else on the crowd. Without speaking, Erik knew that he was in no shape to wheel himself right now. With a lift of his palm, he transferred himself and Charles over the piles of rubble out of their circle. They landed just as the other children flocked around Warren worriedly.

"You broke my nose!" The kidnapper accused the giant.

"I could have broken something else," the mutant pointed out calmly just as Moira appeared, and, flashing her CIA badge at the police moving forward, she grabbed the man by the arm and hauled him to his feet.

Then she punched him again, this time in the gut.

"Ugh!" The idiot cried, falling to his knees, which made it easier for Moira to cuff him.

"Don't mess with _my mutants_!"She hissed, again reminding Erik why he liked Moira. She was one of the only humans he respected -and frankly got along with- because of her tendency to hit people. It was rather refreshing.

She shoved him towards the frightened police. "He's all yours, boys," she informed them. Erik glanced over to the others, and saw Warren sitting on his knees, clinging to Charles's unresponsive legs, trembling, as Angel assessed his skewed wings. Charles had leaned over, gently carding a hand through Warren's hair and rubbing his shoulder, whispering soft reassurances in his ear. Erik jogged over, kneeling next to Warren. Cassidy had tears running down her cheeks as she gently touched Warren's left wing. The crowd watched at a respectful distance.

"It isn't supposed to look like this," she told Michael as he walked up; kneeling on Warren's other side. "I think it's broken," Michel gently poked at the bone at the base of Warren's back. The child stiffened.

"Not exactly," the doctor muttered. "His wings are like shoulder joints. They can be popped out of place. The adrenaline is masking most of the pain for now, so it would be best to snap it while he can't feel most of it," he said, directing this phrase towards Charles. The telepath nodded and looked at Emma.

"I don't trust myself at this moment," his voice trembled as he waved at the bleeding mass of swollen flesh along his temple. "Can you?" She nodded and shoved Erik out of the way as Michael waved Logan and Erik forward.

Erik had snapped joints into place before, and if Logan hadn't, he was about to learn. Besides, they were strongest. They each took one side of the wing, holding tightly. Charles gripped Warren's forearms, gently instructing him to lay his head down facing Emma. "It will be over soon," he whispered when Warren whimpered. Emma pressed two fingers to his forehead, probably intending to take most of the pain from him.

"One…Two…Three…!" _Sorry Warren._ The wing snapped into place with a sickening _pop._ Warren flinched but did not cry out. Two fat tears of pain flowed down Emma's cheeks though. She clenched her teeth, and Erik couldn't help but admire her strength.

"Try moving it," Michael directed softly. Warren did as he was asked. Slowly, his wing quivered, then shook. A few feathers fell off but the appendage rose, strong and usable. Erik let out a breath of relief. _Thank goodness._

The crowd seemed just as relieved, or those that cared. Charles was still stroking Warren's hair. Suddenly, he looked up. Azazel had come limping over, eyes sunk in with a weariness that superseded physical exertion. Charles studied him for a moment, judging something, before beckoning Alex forward and gently placing a slumbering Warren in his arms. Emma seemed to have put him to sleep with her psychic hold. She slumped against his wheelchair, exhausted. Erik knelt at her side and stroked away a blonde stand of hair.

"You did well," she smiled deviously.

"Flattery gets you _nowhere_ , spicy head," she murmured. Erik smiled.

"Azazel," Charles said softly. "Take them home," he directed tiredly, gesturing to the children, then added: " _All of them,"_ Erik got the message. He nodded to his team.

"Go." He faced no objections. He imagined none of them wanted very much to stay. Hank took a step towards Charles, though.

"I won't leave you, professor," he started, but Charles shook his head firmly.

"No, Hank," he said firmly. "I need you to go with them as well. This place isn't safe…"

"Then come with us!"

Charles looked at the building. A few brave souls had managed to crawl out of the debris during the commotion, but there would be more in need of rescue. "I have work to do here. Go. I can't focus if I'm worried about you," his tone softened, along with his eyes.

"Please Hank. Be safe," swayed by the vulnerability in Charles's eyes, Hank obeyed. Reluctantly, he joined the long line of gripping hands that the mutant family had already created. "Wait!"

The reporters took a step forward, shaken out of their stunned silence by the prospect of their greatest publicity leaving. Azazel gave him a curt nod before they all vanished in a poof of red smoke.

Charles stared at the spot where they had vanished with a solemn gaze as the reporters looked around like lost ducklings. "You should have gone with them," He said at last, addressing Erik.

He snorted. " _Ten thousand times,_ remember?"

"I don't deserve such loyalty."

"You do to me."

Charles didn't respond to that. There was something in his eyes- a deeper part of him beyond the weariness and the guilt- that was broken. Erik could feel it, and it scared him to think that it was now part of Charles. Erik sighed just as the reporters flocked to them. Hadn't he been scared enough for one day?

"No," Charles snapped, before any of them could ask what he felt about this attack; did this still hold with his philosophy of peace; how did he think the mutant community would react to such an attack and who did he suppose planted the bomb, human or mutant? "No questions," Charles ordered, a rare sign flashing in his eyes. It was rage. Erik wisely took a step back.

"There are _people_ still trapped beneath there," he informed them quietly, jabbing a finger at the downed structure. "People that need our help. Put down your cameras and go," yes, he certainly was of kingly lineage, for the reporters stared at him as if they had just been rebuked by their mothers before tentatively setting down the cameras and heading towards the rubble.

Mutants and humans all joined, crying, sniffling, moaning out their grief and fear that it had been their loved ones to be crushed. Charles placed a finger against his temple and closed his eyes, concentrating. Erik wanted to tell him that he shouldn't be doing _anything_ with a concussion, but he knew it would have been useless. Charles would always think of others before himself; it was his way.

And truthfully? Erik didn't very much want him to change.

"Excuse me?" A soft voice asked, hesitantly. Charles's eyes snapped open just as the mutant and woman who had saved Warren walked up. "Professor?" The woman asked. Erik studied her.

She was human. He had been around enough mutants to know when someone was one; they had a distinct _aura_ about them. Sometimes of fear, other times of bold anger. But she had no such aura. Hers was of kindness, shyness, and an almost elfish joy that lurked beneath the surface.

She was extremely beautiful, she reminded Erik of an elf, actually. With chestnut hair cut in a shortened style so that strands tangled closely to the nap of her neck like ivy twines about a tree, and spiked toward the top, ending with long bangs resting around her ears and over her forehead. She had fine, long eyebrows, dark lashes and pert small lips. Her face was trapped in an expression of innocent youth; though he could tell she was older than she appeared. Gray eyes shimmered from beneath her bangs.

Charles's face softened when he saw it was her. "Ah, hello," he said as the mutant walked up behind her, now having returned to normal form. Human skin and dark silver eyes stared at Erik wonderingly. He smiled and offered his hand.

"Magneto. That 's some power you've got there," he complimented. The mutant shook his hand with eyes as wide as if Erik had just offered him gold.

"Will your student be alright?" The woman asked; genuine concern in her eyes. Charles nodded.

"He will. Thanks to you," he offered his hand as well, and she shook it. "What you did was very brave. There are no words to describe how grateful I am to you for saving him, Ms….?"

She blushed. "Ainsely," she told him, with a smile. "My name is Cecilia Ainsely. This is my brother," she waved at the mutant. "Jason. Though he prefers to be called…"

"Colossus," the man interrupted hurriedly. Erik smiled as he looked the large man over once.

"Fitting," he agreed.

"We came for the grand opening, hoping my brother could get some help with his powers from the School," she explained, with a rueful look at the place.

"And because Cecilia stalks your speeches," Colossus added to Charles. His sister blushed a deep scarlet, giving him a firm elbow in the chest. "Ow!" he cried, rubbing the sore spot with a hurt expression.

"You stalk the X-Men!" she whispered pointedly, now making him blush too. "I studied public speaking and business in college. I love analyzing speeches," she explained to Charles, who looked a bit amused by their shenanigans. Probably because these two resembled him and Raven so much. "Until they kicked me out, that is," she then muttered, bitterly.

"Kicked you out?" Erik blinked, wonderingly. What wrong could _she_ have done? She looked as if she were unable to smash a fly, much less get into any trouble. _Then again,_ he thought. _She hammered that criminal over the head pretty hard with a mere baseball bat_ , she looked ashamed until Colossus put a supportive hand on her shoulder.

"We hid mutants on the run in our house for three years. One day, we got caught. When the college found out, they expelled her," he told them, in a tone that made it quite clear that he was proud of his sister for her efforts, and angry with the college for rejecting her. Erik nodded, impressed.

"What happened to the mutants in your care?" he asked.

Colossus shrugged. "We got as many out as fast as we could, sent them to others who would hide them, but some… I don't know. We had to get out fast too, or else get arrested," he seemed quite comfortable sharing the fact that they were basically criminals. Erik cocked an eyebrow, knowing that there was more to the story than just that. How had they escaped? Where had they come from? Were they still on the run?

"Well," Charles, ever the polite one, said. "I'm certainly glad you're safe. Warren might be in a very different place if not for you both. Again, you have my thanks," he said.

"It was fun," Colossus assured him.

Cecilia smiled. "It was what anyone would have done," she said humbly, before tugging at her brother's arm.

"Jason," she said. "Come on. We have work to do here. We can help the people get out," she repeated Charles's earlier words.

"I'll locate people," Charles agreed tiredly, closing his eyes once more. His head swayed Erik took a step forward to help, but Charles waved him away.

"They need you more. Go, Magneto," he ordered, and Erik knew it would be fruitless- and unhelpful- to disobey. So reluctantly, he turned his back on his telepathic friend, and at the side of Colossus who followed him like an eager puppy, made his way to the wreckage.

* * *

Moira came to get them a half hour before midnight. The black van shone lights into the dimness of the nearly abandoned street. Cecilia and Jason remained, the only two not of the mourners, crying over the destroyed bodies of their loved ones, finally pulled from the wreckage. Charles had fallen silent hours before, his eyes sunken in with grief of his own, but he paid homage to the lost, comforted the family members with silent touches. If he said anything to them telepathically, Erik didn't know.

He only put a hand on Charles's shoulder when Moira arrived. "Professor," he said softly, pulling Charles from his trance. Cecilia had wrapped a bandage around his head, but it was blood soaked now. He would need stitches, maybe more. "It's time to go," Charles merely nodded and let Erik push him towards the car past the mourners. None of them-human or mutant- noticed them leaving except for Jason, who raised a hand in silent farewell, his arm wrapped around Cecilia. In the dimness, her solemn face looked like an abandoned child before a funeral pyre.

Erik turned away. Charles didn't ask, but Erik lifted him into the car anyway, both of them plopping down in the backseat and closing the door. They sunk into shadows Moira did not turn around as she started the car.

"How many?" She wondered emotionlessly. Charles's head slumped unto Erik's shoulder when he had finished buckling him in. The metal-bender smoothed a lock of hair down, holding Charles to his chest tightly. His heart was consumed with worry. Charles was just staring into space; his glassy eyes seeped with pain. His expression was _empty_ and vague. His skin felt hot and clammy to the touch. Fever. But when he heard Moira's question, his eyes swiveled to her slowly, as if he were the shell of a broken doll with lolling eyes.

"Ten," he croaked after hours of silence. "Six mutants. Four humans. Dead," including Eliza and John. They had died together, twisted in each other's arms like Roman statues carved in a moment of anguished love. Ten bodies that Erik and Colossus had pulled from the wreckage, mangled and lifeless. Ten families who had lost a loved one in the bomb. Ten people Charles had felt die.

Moira let out a slow breath. There was nothing to be said, so she drove through the night and empty highways silently. Erik felt his own body sagging with exhaustion. His nausea and headache were back, but he kept his attention on Charles. "Warren?" he asked after a moment.

"He's fine. They're all alright. Michael gave them a soporific," she glanced at their exhausted and in Charles's case, fevered, bodies then added: "Michael is waiting for you. We'll be home within the next hour," Erik remembered that Massachusetts and New York were right next to each other. He nodded and patted Charles's shoulder.

"Stay awake," he begged, too sad to command and too tired to ask.

"I will," Charles's voice was strong, even as his body was not. "I'll be fine, Erik," it was a relief to hear that, even if he sort of suspected Charles was lying to him again. Then, because he knew Charles needed to hear it, he whispered against his ear:

"This wasn't your fault," Charles blinked slowly.

"If I had sensed him earlier, this never would have happened." He said hollowly.

Erik was quick to deny it. "No one would have…"

"I can read minds, Erik," Charles interrupted, sharply, sounding angrier than Erik had ever heard him. The body stiffened in his arms. "I can read _minds_ and I didn't _know_ … And if that weren't enough, I called them there. I called every mutant from hiding and now…" Charles voice trembled out of control. He closed his eyes and Erik felt wetness seep into his chest.

He hugged Charles even more, his heart breaking in sympathy. "I was prepared for it to be me," Charles whispered after a moment. "When I started this, I thought they would come after _me._ No one else was supposed to get hurt, especially not my family," Warren's broken wing flashed before both of their minds.

"No one else was supposed to die. Especially not children," Seven of the ten dead had been children, no older than Sean. Erik closed his eyes as nausea built. He had seen them, pulled them from the rubble, their small bodies crooked and… _Cold._ So cold.

"We're in a war, Charles," he said at last, glancing at Moira. There were tear tracks on her face. "Not the kind I thought, but… This is a war, and in war, there are casualties. In war, people die," he choked out the truth which shouldn't have hurt him so much. He had survived the _Holocaust_. He knew more about death than any other person. He shouldn't feel so much, and before when he was a lone wolf, he would have felt nothing…

Things were different now.

Charles settled his head against Erik's chest near his heart, as if listening for some pulse of life to reassure himself that it was possible. Life was still possible. It was still _there._ "All those innocent people," Charles breathed, trembling. "I saw them die, heard them die, felt their deaths. I led them there to die. So many voices," he choked out in agony. Erik held him tighter, knowing that there was nothing he could say or do to assuage the pain Charles was feeling. "So much _pain_ ," a strangled sob.

"Why, Erik? Why was I chosen to bear their pain?" he moaned desperately. "What sin have I committed to merit such a curse?" Erik had never seen his power as a curse. The consequences of having it, yes, but he supposed that was why he was not a telepath. He wondered if he would have the strength to keep going, day in, day out, feeling the falls and risings of the people around him through a mind that did not filter good from bad, dark from light. Erik knew that whatever agony Charles felt was beyond his understanding, was an agony only he could bear. Still, it broke his heart to know that he was useless. He placed a gentle hand against Charles's face and hugged him securely.

"Don't think about it, Charles," was the only advice he could give, in a powerless whisper. "It will do nothing to ease your sleep," Charles shook his head.

"So much _pain_ …" and then the flood came, overwhelming them both with its intensity. Charles gripped Erik's hands with a bone-crushing grip, as if he were drowning again and needed an anchor to hold him above water; as if he were _pleading_ with Erik not to let go. He squeezed his eyes closed and followed his own advice. He did not think about anything right then for fear that the cruelty of this world might destroy him.

He just held Charles while he wept.

* * *

Twelve stitches and a bandage was placed around Charles's head, along with a strong dose of pain medication and a soporific. Michael worked gravely, quietly. Then, when it was done and Charles was in a deep slumber, he and Moira vanished into the dark hallways of the mansion, two phantoms following shadows in hope of seeing a reflection of some forgotten revelation.

Erik went to his room. He was not surprised to see Emma already there, wide-awake in his reading chair, waiting for him. Her large eyes swept him over once in the doorway. She was dressed only in a thin sleep dress. To him it looked like the garments of an angel.

He collapsed before her in reverence. He did not remember her moving, but then he was in her arms, on the ground, trying to writhe back to his feet while slurring out explanations of his night. "Emma, people… Ten… Eliza, John…The children… _Charles_ …" he summarized thickly, unsure whether she could even understand what he was saying but praying that she might alleviate some of this infernal agony in his soul.

That's what angels did, wasn't it? They saved you.

She shushed him and ran a hand over his forehead comfortingly. He stilled, lying limp in her arms, head pillowed on her lap. Her skin was soft. She smelled of lavender and lilacs. He lightly stroked the bare skin of her calf, momentarily entranced. She had a halo. She was glowing, golden. She was speaking, but he could not hear what she was saying. The world was fading in and out, reality blurring into dreams and images and sounds. His head ached with exhaustion.

He gripped her wrist, gasping for breath as if he were drowning again, in cold waters trying to attain something that he knew wasn't there, hadn't ever been there. Revenge was not something you could touch, was not something you could grasp and hold like a submarine. It writhed in your chest like a snake and snapped at your heart.

It was a festering _disease_ , an almighty wave crashing upon the shore and he was drowning now not in revenge but in grief, guilt, pain, shame, revenge, hatred, rage, fear…. Every emotion he had stuffed down since he were a child shackled to a table with a madman looming over him.

Every emotion he had forced into the cavernous hollows in his heart to keep from going _insane_ came rushing at him and he cried out, gripping Emma so that she might keep him above water, keep him here, in the golden light of her touch.

He tried to explain this, to tell her that if she deserted him now he might never wake up again, killed by his own excruciating past. But the words couldn't get past his thick tongue. He felt a hand card through his hair, and suddenly it didn't matter because _she_ was there, with him in those cavernous parts of his heart and mind, a shining angel in the torments of hell there to retrieve him…

A fierce warrior of radiance, she burned the demons away with a single quelling look of authority before coming to hover above the scared little boy being tortured. "Hush, Erik," she muttered, somewhere beyond the realm of dream and sitting in a different dimension called reality. "Hush; and sleep. In the morning, the sun will come again. That, at least, I can promise you," her promise was enough. He relaxed as the caverns were emptied by the promise of two people, their words swirling in his mind like one of Riptide's tornadoes.

 _"You're not alone."_

 _"In the morning, the sun will come again,"_ the shackles broke. The waters drowning him receded, and the caverns of his heart echoed, now empty and awaiting new emotions. New sadness's and joys and loves.

Love. You could touch that. It felt soft and it glowed and it was golden. It smelled of lilacs and lavender and it made him promises that didn't hurt.

The boy stood, free and laughing defiantly. He grabbed the hand of the Angel.

"Thank you," he wasn't sure which dimension he spoke it on, but he meant it with every distorted mutated molecule. The angel smiled and the light shone on him from above, lifting him from the torments he had been in, taking him from the shackles that had become part of him, and finally, _finally…_

He slept.


	28. Chapter 28

**_A week later:_**

"Dinner? _Here_!?" Moira demanded, wondering if either Charles had lost his mind or she had begun hearing things. She sincerely hoped it was the former because she sort of needed to remain sane, but it was not impossible that she was losing her wits. After all, she lived with mutants, all of whom were suicidal. And insane. And stupid, bloody, idiots.

Especially him.

Charles was obstinate for a man who had been in immobile with a deadly fever a few nights ago. "Yes, here," the telepath continued, crossing his arms. He gazed at her calmly, and with no less Charles charm, but there as something in his eyes that made her think that his normal act was just that- an act.

A good one, albeit, he had managed to fool the younger ones into believing he was alright. The world, even, because he had delivered four speeches in the past week on the bombing in Boston, urging Mutants to remain nonviolent, but he wasn't fooling her. Or Erik, for that matter. Where was he, anyway? Usually he was the one who had to deal with a stubborn Charles. Goodness knew he was the only one who could.

The two men, for _some_ reason this week, had become opposites in even more of a conspicuous way. Where Charles was secretly hiding his pain, Erik was…Happy. Moira never thought to see the day. He looked as free as he acted. He actually smiled on a daily basis now, and he fairly glowed when Emma walked into the room.

Moira was less surprised by their quite obvious love for each other (Cassidy called them the 'love and war' couple) than by the fact that somehow, all of the demons that seemed to have followed Erik around for so long were… _dormant._

Granted, not put to rest gone. She would still see him tense when he smelled smoke or make some bitter comment about Shaw, humans or whatnot, so the demons existed, they just didn't torment him anymore. It was incredible.

"Moira, they saved Warren's life, and I want to show them a proper debt of gratitude," his eyes sparked with intelligence that remained undimmed by emotion. "Besides, I think Erik has his eye on Colossus for the X-Men," Meaning he had gleaned this information from Erik's mind directly but didn't want to say so. _Really._ How stupid did he suppose she was?

"You're rich, Charles," Moira pointed out irritably, as Bobby got done counting upstairs and hollered "ready or not, here we come!" followed by Kitty's shrill shriek of excitement as they went looking. She smiled.

"You could take them to Barbados. You could buy them a mansion. Why do they have to come _here_?" She demanded. Usually, he would be saying this to _her._

"Because I could do that for anyone…"

"Then why don't I have a mansion in Barbados?"

"Moira, please, you're far too valuable a friend to me for me to insult you with lavish gifts!"

"It is okay, Charles, really. I would find it in my heart to forgive you. Promise," that inspired a brief chuckle out of him, and Moira felt accomplished.

She sighed. "Are you really, _really_ sure?" She asked.

" _Yes,_ Moira. I trust them,"

"You trust everyone,"

"Not the point," they had a momentary staring contest, trying to over will the other into doing what they wanted… Charles won, by sheer force of his faith in others. That, at least, was not broken.

"Fine," she harrumphed, crossing her arms. "I'll invite them, and bring them, but I hope you know what you're doing,' a shadow of sadness flitted across his face and he cringed. Moira snapped her mouth closed, remembering an agonized voice from a week before in the backseat.

 _"_ _I led them there to die."_

"I do too, Moira," Charles said, softly. He looked up at her with haunted eyes. "I do too."

* * *

" _This_ is Professor X's house?" Jason gasped from next to her. Cecilia, who had been staring at the beautiful landscape of New York (she had been to several states, but never New York. It reminded her a bit of Rhode Island) turned around at the insistent poking of her brother. She slapped at his fingers, trying not to smile.

"At least _act_ as if you're older than six years old," she scolded, without much bite. In all truth, if ever her brother did start showing some maturity all the time she wouldn't know what to do herself.

In the front of the car at the wheel, she heard Moira chuckle. Jason wasn't listening anyway. He took her shoulder and shook it, pointing. Cecelia looked over his shoulder towards the place that they were approaching for dinner and almost gasped aloud at the sheer magnificent beauty.

The sun was setting over the giant mansion they were approaching. Cecilia's heart skipped beat at the sheer magnitude and grandness of it, and she knew that had it been anyone else's house, she might laughed at the ridiculousness. What did a person need all of those rooms for? What reason was there for the grandness in this day and age, and when so many had less?

But the knowledge that Professor X kept his students here made more sense. The mansion, from a certain point of view, also could act like a fortress. One could hide from enemies for _days_ in there, and there were strategic advantages to having such a large estate when under attack. She nodded, trying not to show how impressed she was. Jason saw it anyway. He nudged her.

"Amazing, huh?" he asked as the car circled to the front door before stopping. Moira stepped out. Jason quickly undid the door and followed her.

"Well," The CIA agent who had given them the invitation and picked them up outside of Boston said with content. She looked up at the mansion with obvious fondness. She looked awfully comfortable here, as if she had just returned home after a rather prolonged journey. "This is home," Cecilia nodded and allowed Jason to help her out of the car. She stared at the textured brick, her mind flashing back to pictures of Victorian castles and kings.

"It's beautiful," she observed.

"Now remember," Moira began again, before they could go up the steps. "You are not to mention the location of this place to anyone," she told them for perhaps the twentieth time and Cecilia had no doubt that the two of them would regret it if they did. She gave Moira a swift nod in reply.

Both of them would rather die than give away Professor, but Moira didn't have proof of that yet. Cecilia knew that she would have been wary of strangers too; she often was whenever she was with Jason. He was her little brother, after all.

Which was half the reason why she was first up the stairs after Moira. Despite the people that lived here… Two years of hiding mutants had taught Cecilia that sometimes the unexpected happened just when one least expected it, and if it did happen this time she would not allow any harm to befall her brother. "Welcome to Xavier's school for Gifted Mutants," Moira welcomed them, considerably more cheerful, as she inserted a key and opened the large wooden doors with a gentle grunt.

She walked in, the two of them following, Cecilia first. Jason whistled beneath his breath. At that moment, a long, lanky man with a head of thinning black hair and a large, protruding nose walked in. Cecilia smiled; a gesture which he returned and swept an elegant bow. "May I take your coats, madam, monsieur?" He asked. Cecilia giggled as Jason thumped Michael on the back.

"This," Moira introduced him with a sly smile. "Is Michael. Our other resident human. He's also a doctor," she said.

"We saw you at the school opening," Jason remembered. Michael nodded as they handed him their coats.

"Moira and I follow the mutants about everywhere to make sure they stay out of trouble," he explained, with a shining grin. He winked at Moira, who blushed and snickered in agreement. "You wouldn't believe the riff-raff they get up to when we're not around. Some of them even fly about places instead of walking like _respectable_ people," Cecilia got the distinct impression he was talking about someone in the room. This suspicion was proved correct when a red-headed boy around sixteen popped his head in from a doorway to the left.

"You telling rumors about me again, doc?" he demanded severely. There was a humorous twinkle in his eye though. Michael reached over to ruffle his hair like a father would do to his most spoiled son.

"Yes, Banshee. I'm talking about you. Say hello and then take these to the study, would you?" He requested, handing him their jackets. Sean took them, sticking his tongue out at Michael playfully. Then he turned to them. "Hey, I'm Sean," he introduced himself happily. "The kids should be here in about four seconds to take you to the dining room. Dinner will be ready soon," he assured them.

"What are we having?" Colossus inquired curiously. Sean gave an unknowing half-shrug.

"Emma says I'm a safety hazard to have near hot things," he told them with an impish grin. "So I would ask one of the children. They're not deemed hazards," and with that he vanished into the adjacent doorway once more. True to his words, before Cecilia could ask just what Sean's mutation was, the space was suddenly filled with children.

She felt a thin slice of paper shoved into her grasp. Cecilia looked down to see a gaggle of mutants at her feet. She smiled invitingly, and they all exchanged glances, not knowing what to make of this new stranger. "Its a thank you card," the winged boy she had rescued told her as the smallest one handed Jason one as well.

"For saving Warren," a red-headed girl explained shyly. Cecilia's heart melted as she held the heartfelt gift. She hadn't expected this.

"Well," Jason knelt there so as to seem less intimidating. He _was_ tall, after all. "It was quite our pleasure," he pointed to the smallest one. "Now, what's your name again? Kitten?" She smiled at him. Cecilia shook her head. Jason had always been good with children.

"Kitty," she answered. Jason scratched his head.

"Yes. I remember that now," he said. Kitty giggled. Cecilia smiled and offered a hand to Warren.

"Would you lead us to the dining room please?" She asked. Warren's answering grin at her politeness was reward enough for saving his life. He grabbed the offered hand and happily steered her down a long train of hallways while the others introduced themselves excitedly either to her or Jason.

While they dragged her down the halls, their excited voices filling the emptiness in her chest, Cecilia was reminded why she stood up for mutants in the first place. Most of it was because of Jason. She wanted him to be treated just like everyone else. She wanted him to be free of fear, but more than that she wanted to be part of something that might save countless generations of mutants. Countless generations of _people_ that might never know the fear she had known her entire life- that one day someone might take the only family she had away because he was different.

That was well worth being expelled from school, being banished for her compassion.

The dreams that she had had there weren't as strong as the hope she had that these children might grow to be something bigger than her, might live in a world that was too good for her. By the time Cecilia was brought to peace by these answers, her nervousness at meeting Professor X again and her sadness from the bombing a week earlier falling from her mind, they had reached the dining room.

A long wooden table, adorned with a white tablecloth was already set up. A glowing chandelier swung overhead. Steaming piles of food had already been placed there, and from the side door another woman walked in. Cecilia gasped in surprise.

Was that _Mystique_?

As if on cue, Professor X and Magneto walked in next, speaking to each other like they were the oldest of friends. "Come on!" Warren tugged at her hand. "You have to meet everyone!" everyone?

She and Jason exchanged a glance. It had seemed at the opening that Magneto and Professor X knew each other beyond nothing other than name. What was he doing here too?

"We live here," Jason swiveled around, but Cecilia had heard Diamondhead approach. The blonde-haired woman swept past them with a bowl of steaming green beans in it. "We didn't know what you would prefer," she told them apologetically as the bowl suddenly floated from her hands onto an empty space at the table. Jean looked very concentrated as her hand directed the bowl there.

"So we sort of made everything we could think of. Azazel!" a small whoosh of air signaled the appearance of another. He raised an eyebrow at Emma questioningly. "Is the chicken done?" A silent nod. "Then bring it out, clothead! And where is…? Ah, Alex, Cassidy, where've you two been?" Emma asked as two others walked into the room, holding hands. Cecilia looked on, amazed at how… _fearlessly_ they all used their powers. Jason looked absolutely ecstatic.

"We had to drag Hank from his lab," Cassidy explained as they took their seats at the table.

Warren tugged at her hand gently. "I'll show you your seat," he offered. Cecilia grinned.

"Thank you sir," she replied, amused and flattered by the attention. She looked up to meet Professor X's eyes. She cocked a brow. "I suppose the media doesn't know everything, does it?" she asked, glancing between him and Magneto.

"What is it with you and deducing everyone's secret motives?" her brother groaned as Scott showed him his own seat. The professor chuckled softly, the sound reminding her of the deep growl of a lion as he protected his clan. _That_ was a weird image.

"Not everything," he agreed as he wheeled up to her. They shook hands warmly. "It is good to see you again, Cecilia. I see my students have already given you a warm welcome," she nodded and hugged her card to her chest.

"Yes, a most welcome one, Professor," she agreed. He waved his hand dismissively, giving her an odd look.

"Please, you saved Warren's life. Besides, barely anyone actually calls me that but the outside world. Call me by my given name, Charles," he said, and to Cecilia she recognized it as the seal of trust and gratitude like no other. She squeezed his hand.

"As you wish," she accepted merely. Magneto, for once without his helmet, crossed his arms and regarded Charles with narrowed eyes.

"I thought your given name was bloody idiot," he informed him.

"That's my secondary name," Charles agreed as he wheeled to the head of the table where a gentle push by Hank pressed him firmly into place. Charles smiled over his shoulder at his partner and Cecilia could not help but feel content in this circle of boundless love.

She sat next to Jason as the children hopped into their seats with the ease of people who had done this plenty of times. "Since we're going by given names," Magneto proclaimed from his seat at the other end of the table. "Mine is Erik," Charles raised his eyebrows and as Diamondhead passed, she kissed his forehead.

The girls giggled and the boys sniggered, letting out small exclamations of "ooohhhh!" Erik gave them amused looks.

"I'm Emma," Diamondhead proclaimed as she sat at Erik's right side, pouring herself a bottle of Champaign. Moira and Michael re-entered, laughing over some private joke. Mystique sat next to Hank. The other three-Wolverine, Riptide and Azazel sat last. The hot plates of food were still steaming. Cecilia felt her stomach rumble. Jason's mouth was watering. They had not eaten such a feast since… She had never had such a feast.

She looked up. Charles was smiling at her. He gestured to the food. "Please take it," he requested. "It will teach the children to be more sparing of their own snacks and meals," he gave them a stern look, but it did not seem to have any threatening affect on the children. They merely gave Charles smiles.

She looked up. Charles was smiling at her. He gestured to the food. "Please take it," he requested. "It will teach the children to be more sparing of their own snacks and meals," he gave them a stern look, but it did not seem to have any threatening affect on the children. They merely gave Charles smiles.

Then, something amazing happened, and it had to do with all of them merely being mutant. "Jean, pass the Mashed potatoes, would you?" The bowl floated over to Sean.

"Scott, can you warm up my chocolate milk pretty please?" A laser beam shot from his eyeglasses and towards the bottom of the cup. Kitty's chocolate milk began to boil.

"Bobby, ice, if you would?" Bobby fisted his hand and offered three perfectly frosted ice cubes to Raven, dumping them into her cup.

"Riptide, stir that soup a bit more," a tiny tornado floated over the table, sucking into it spoons and forks before landing in the bowl, churning it like a blender.

"Erik, I believe we're going to need some more forks now," Erik didn't look up from eating when he raised a hand and suddenly four forks came spearing towards him. They were diverted to their appropriate places a second before they stabbed his hand.

"Oops, Kitty. I forgot napkins. Can you get them?" Kitty finished spearing her green beans before promptly melding through her chair and turning. She returned a few moments later, went straight through the chair, and laid down a stack of napkins. No one seemed at all surprised or disturbed by these tricks.

In fact, the table worked perfectly well with bowls being lifted and tornadoes being made and ice cubes being blown and laser beams traveling to bowls. Cecilia watched the controlled chaos for a moment before a slow smile overtook her face. She looked at Jason and saw him grinning at her too. In their minds, a single thought appeared at the same time.

 _I_ _ **love**_ _this place._


	29. Chapter 29

The night had passed rather well, in Charles's opinion. Everyone had eaten, and much of the food not eaten could be saved for another day. The children had given reports on their progress, both with powers and academics. Then the X-Men had regaled the table with stories from their worldly adventures.

His original students had given the account of Shaw and how this had all begun. Charles had been silent most of the meal, picking at his food, as despair floated about in his soul like a thick fog. He could never seem to escape the blasted thing. It clouted his breathing, made sweat break out on his brow, visited him in his nightmares.

It had the voice of his father, accusing him of being a devil for something that was out of his control. It felt like whippings and loneliness in a house that was a prison. It felt like the shattering bullet in his spine and airless lungs ready for bursting.

It smelled like blood and had the visage of crushed children. He felt as if he were drowning in it, as if the fog was consuming him, but he continued to hold his smile because now this wasn't just about him.

This was about the world which needed him, the mutants who depended on him and the humans who found hope in his words. They needed him to be as he had always been. The Professor X, strong, impenetrable, brave. They needed him to be their protector, and he would rather die than fail this sacred duty which belonged to him.

He did not know why it did, and he rather suspected it might have something to do with the devil heart his father seemed to have noticed, but that was beyond the point.

Despite this, he was not unhappy having dinner with Cecilia and Jason. They were good company, and played the attentive, comfortable audience. Cecilia's mind-hidden beneath swooping brows, dark lashes and grey eyes- captivated him. It was a beehive, swirling with intelligence and observations which were as good as any telepathy.

Yet it was also serene, filled with a quiet wisdom that reminded him of a pond's rippling surface. What really made Charles think, however, was that he couldn't connect to her emotions. Sure, he could hear her thoughts, but with other people, their hearts were like open books to him, pages sitting there for traversal, but her? She was like a cloudy pond which let a few hints pop to the surface like fallen leaves, but nothing else. It intrigued him. He had a feeling this woman was highly underestimated by most of society. At the end of dinner, while Emma and Azazel prepared their elaborate desert, he offered to show Cecilia the library.

"Oh please don't, Charles," Jason groaned when she readily accepted the offer. "If you show her that, I'll never see her again," he told him. Charles smiled and looked to her.

"I take it you enjoy reading?" She nodded eagerly. Charles chuckled.

"While you're doing that," Erik stood and looked pointedly at Jason. "Would you like to watch Angel defeat banshee in a flying race?" he wondered. Jason's face lit up like he had been offered candy behind his parents back. He glanced sidelong as Cecilia. She nodded, beaming the joy she felt at seeing him so happy. It made Charles happy. He remembered the feeling.

"No way, I'm going to win this time! Right guys?" Sean declared, ramming a fist to his heart in a sign of manliness or… Something. Cassidy snorted.

"In your dreams, ghost boy," she informed him.

"Go, Sean! Go Sean!" Kitty chanted, jumping up and down.

"Kitty's on my side! Prof?"

"I'm neutral,"

"That means he's on my side in Charles language," he wished he still had the ability to create his own language. His mind had been sluggish as of late. A side-effect of the concussion _. I suppose I'm turning into a cripple in many different ways_ , he thought bitterly; leading Cecilia through the halls as the others raced to the balcony to witness Sean get thrashed by Cassidy. As was right.

Cecilia walked beside him silently. To his surprise, she did not seem overly awed by the paintings or lavish architecture. She didn't even look at it. He decided that the silence was nice but undeniably rude to maintain. "Cecilia," he began in the quiet hallways of the mansion. "May I ask you a question?" He asked.

Her answer was immediate. "Of course, Charles."

"What degree were you going to college for?" He wondered curiously.

She shrugged. "I don't know, really," she admitted. "I didn't have a specific career path when I began. I was beginning my junior year when I was expelled," he cringed in sympathy. So close. "I had contemplated being a lawyer or journalist. Hence why I studied public speaking," he studied her from the corner of his eye.

"I believe you'd make a fine journalist," he said. She smiled, flattered.

"Thank you," she replied. "You'd make a brilliant lawyer. I went to your speech in Pittsburgh. It was well done," he shook his head humbly, ducking his head. He deserved no praise.

"Moira helped me write half of that. I claim no credit. Where did you go to college?"

"Princeton University," his brow vanished beneath his bangs. He was impressed. Not many women got accepted into Princeton. The American school was renowned all over the world for their beautiful campus and intensive study programs. Cecilia read the thought either on his face or just by guessing. She was a shrewd one.

"I was one of the only women there. A blessing and curse, I suppose, considering that most of them didn't like me. Anyway, I think I would like to be a journalist one day, or a teacher. I spent a few weeks in the teaching program just to check it out."

"And?"

"A professor of music or literature, would I like to be," she announced, with a dramatic roll of her tongue. Charles chuckled.

"Do you play an instrument?"

"Only the violin. I loved that instrument so much, it was lovely. I wish I had it," he frowned, wondering what happened to it. Then her mind opened like a flower unfurling and he saw a brutal search after being found out, police knocking down doors and searching bedrooms for mutants. In the fray, the violin case was opened, the instrument totally disfigured by impatient hands and malicious hearts.

He decided that, indeed, there was much more to this woman than meets the eye. "You?" She asked.

"I played piano for awhile," Joseph had taught him. He still had the grand thing, actually, sitting down in the basement. "But I fell out of it when I went to college. I'd like to play it again," she hummed beneath her breath.

"It's never too late," she told him. His heart panged. For some, it was. For some, it was far past too late, and it was his doing that they would never have a chance to pursue future dreams. The fog rolled back into his heart.

"I suppose," he hurried to open the doors to the library, wanting desperately to change the subject. The large room opened up before them. It was circular, containing over a thousand books on shelves that reached the ceiling.

A spiraling staircase went up to the second floor, and a small chair and table set in the middle of the room were for reading. There was a ladder for collecting higher books like one harvested apples. Cecilia gasped in delight. Suddenly She was passing him in a blur of green shirt, sprinting towards the nearest shelf. She smelled like a crisp autumn morning. Charles watched with amusement as she searched the bookshelves, totally engrossed in her task.

"Any preference?" he inquired.

She looked up hopefully. "Mysteries? Historical fiction? Creative nonfiction?"

He pointed to the right, snickering. She looked starved for knowledge. He remembered the feeling well. "All to the right. Third shelf is mystery, sixth is creative nonfiction and first is historical fiction," for that was a personal favorite of his as well. Erik preferred nonfiction and Raven had never been much for reading.

He watched her for a few minute, noting the reverent way she handled the books she stuffed into her arms, creating a tower of them. He squinted at the titles. "You know another language?" he asked, surprised when he saw she had picked up a book in French. She did not even pare him a glance.

"Three. Spanish, German and French," she replied, straightening. Charles came forward to take some of her load. She smiled gratefully and stacked five books in his lap. He couldn't help but laugh when he noticed that they were in alphabetical order. That was something he would have done.

"Where did you learn three different languages?" he asked as she went off with the three still in her arms, looking for more. She let out a soft, musical laugh and tipped a higher one off the shelf. Charles rolled after her, his lap steadily collecting more novels. He glanced at them as she set the down, curious.

"When you smuggle mutants across country, you learn quite a few things. I was learning a bit of Arabic before we were caught," she explained. Charles frowned.

"That's incredible. But… How were you caught?" He was aware that this was perhaps a very dangerous and personal question, but for once, his curiosity got the better of him. Cecilia stopped moving for the first time since arriving. She stared at the bookshelf for a second, sadness in her eyes.

"I don't know," she replied softly. "I suspect someone else who was hiding mutants was caught, tortured for information, and told," she shook her head, coming from her spell. "That's how it usually happens," she said, collecting another book.

Charles felt pain spike in his heart, added to pity. "Usually?" he asked softly.

She cast him surprised glance. "Did you not know that mutants were already being prosecuted, hunted, tortured?" She asked. Charles shook his head and gestured around.

"I always suspected, deep down, I suppose. We all did. But, I've only ever spent my life here," he admitted. "Safe-and imprisoned- behind these walls. And I hid my mutation for most of my life, anyway. I suppose it never registered as real until… Until the bombing," he was ashamed when his voice cracked upon the word bomb. He had lost so much and come too close to losing so much more. Cecilia studied him with an emotionless face for a long minute.

Then she nodded not in shock or anger, but understanding. She was not angry at him for his ignorance when the rest of the world saw him as omnipotent. She was not shocked at his ignorance, either, but merely accepting. He found himself being relieved it was nice to finally be treated as a _fallible_ being one in awhile. "I didn't realize the extent of it until we started hiding mutants," she admitted.

"It was Jason's idea originally. He wanted to do something to help others and I wanted to make a difference in the world. We were idealistic, young, naive, but when the danger became real, when we began hearing stories of experimentation, prisons, murders…" she shivered and turned back to the bookshelf, but she seemed to have lost her appetite for reading now.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she cried, just as Charles had begun to think that he messed things up _again_ by being nosy. "I should have asked if I could read these before I just took them down," he shook his head hurriedly.

"No, no! It's quite alright. Really, it's only me and Erik who hang about in here. The others are not partial to books, it's a shame that they are all going to waste just _sitting_ here," he told her. "Please, borrow as many as you'd like," he saw a flicker of gladness in her eyes. A knot in his chest loosened at the sight of it. He was pleased to have made her happy.

Then, the pond waters of her mind rippled with some deep emotion. He watched her expression, intrigued. "Charles, may I ask you something?"His answer was as prompt as hers had been.

"Ask away."

"How did you lose your legs?" He froze. True, in the team's narrative of Shaw, they had left out the part about Shaw shooting him and how he had lost control of his lower body. Charles had seen Jason glance at him as if wanting to ask, but Cecilia had placed a stilling hand on his arm. Charles had been grateful then, but now that she asked while they were here in this sacred, private wellspring of immortal knowledge, alone, his heart skipped a beat at the memory.

 _The blow to his back, stunning and hard and then pain, blossoming until it was fire in his veins…_

 _Michaels' sad, soft voice telling him about the damage, how it was irreversible, no cure, no hope. No walking, for the rest of his life…_

Charles let out a slow breath. Most people would have retracted the statement, but Cecilia only waited patiently. _I do owe her honesty._ That was all she had given him so far. She deserved the same courtesy.

"I jumped in front of a bullet," her expression requested more detail. "Do you remember Shaw, from the story earlier tonight?" A nod. "Well, he and Erik had a… _History._ Erik was tasked to go in and destroy the radiation machine, but I knew he would kill Shaw instead. I went in to stop him, but Shaw managed to escape in the turmoil and… Well… he was going to kill Erik. I couldn't let him," the rest he left up to her. She figured it out quickly, and when she did, her eyes softened with astonishment. Not pity, not sympathy, not hero worship, just….

Amazement. Charles had not yet gotten that from someone.

"You saved his life."

Charles blushed. "He saved mine a few days later. He jumped into the water and almost drowned trying to save _me_ from drowning."

She nodded, then pressed on. "Erik is a survivor of the Holocaust, isn't he?" Charles was so stunned by this bold assortment that he could only gawk like a fish.

"How did you know that?" He finally gasped, wondering of perhaps she was mutant after all and just didn't know it. Was she another telepath?

"I saw the numbers on his arm," maybe not a telepath, but still a blasted genius.

"You are the most perceptive person I've ever met," he blurted, honestly. She smiled.

"Second only to yourself?" She teased. Charles smiled back.

"I read minds," he informed her with a snort. "I don't need to be perceptive. Just good at what I do," he stopped short, realizing how much of a pompous, arrogant brat he sounded like. But Cecilia just laughed and handed him another book to add to the pile.

"Cheers to that, Professor. Speaking of cheering, though, I have a suggestion for your speeches. If I may," he cocked an eyebrow. She had already proved herself to be more than intelligent in his eyes.

"I would be honored."

"Why don't you come _with_ the MEM? March with us, I mean. You've done so much- but the people would feel less afraid if you were there at their side," this was, to his shame, actually a novel idea for him. He had read of generals who rode first into war ahead of their troops, of course, but somehow had never thought of himself that way Probably because he was confined in a sitting position forever. He hardly fit the mold of 'perfect hero,' now did he?

"I haven't actually marched with the MEM. How do the marches usually go?" he asked.

Cecilia glanced at him, and once again this woman was a mystery to him. He couldn't read her emotions, and her gray eyes were shrouded in shadow. He now knew why she had been so good at hiding mutants for three years.

"Well, it depends on where you are," she replied calmly. "I've only been to a few. Most of them begin in the morning- everyone shows up at a certain place coordinated by the resident MEM leader. Then we all get out signs and begin marching. Sometimes, its fine. We pick up support and go through peacefully, laughing away. One march, me and Jason stopped at a park and had a picnic," she told him, smiling at the memory. He got the distinct feeling that this was rare.

"Other times?" he asked softly, dreading the answer. She shook her head.

"Other times, there are people who lash out. Humans part of the anti-mutant societies. They do small things, mostly. Throwing rocks, insults, threats, but once…" she only shook her head; mind muddled into a memory Charles was terrified to delve into. "We were lucky to escape with our lives," guilt came crusading down upon him like an army. He stared at her, seeing the reflection of beatings and jailhouses in her eyes and closed his own, consumed by remorse for this brave person-a brave person who he had put in danger with his ridiculous hopes and far-flung dreams.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in a hoarse voice. "I've done this. I'm the one who called mutants from the safety of their homes; I pulled the world into this state of perpetual hate and destruction… Into this _war_ of ideals," he opened his eyes, finding them blurred by tears. "I'm sorry," he repeated with all his heart.

Now Cecilia was staring at him with shock. "Profess- _Charles_. You have nothing to be sorry for. Yes, you summoned mutants and their families from safety, but not from their homes. Anyplace where you have to hide who you are, afraid for your life, isn't a home. It's a prison. Don't you understand? You've set this world's population of mutants-and humans- _free,_ " he shook his head.

"Free to die?" he spat.

"Free to _live_ ," she contradicted. "Live without shame or fear. Do you know how many nights I've been kept awake; terrified that _someone_ would take Jason from me? That he would have to hide his powers forever, his talents and gifts strangled until his spirit was broken?" He did. Because he had been kept up many nights with the same petrifying fear, frozen with the coldness of it, tears dripping from his lashes as he hyperventilated in bed, thinking that at any moment, he might lose his best and only friend.

Now, he still might.

Others had. And it was his fault.

Cecilia was not done yet. "It haunted my every step, the thought of what such an existence would do to us. But then you stood up, showed us _another_ way, and now… Well, things are bad, but Charles peace has to be _fought_ for. We're fighting, and we will win," she sounded so sure about it that it made tears come to Charles's eyes.

"But at what _cost_?" She was silent, and he sensed she did not know. But unlike others, she did not allow him to be strangled by the silence of unknowing. Instead, she sat down, crossing her legs beneath her, leaning against the bookshelf nearest to him and patted the ground next to her.

He stared at her, confused. She stared back, gray eyes unwavering. Warily, somehow mystified and spellbound by her seriousness, he lifted himself out of the wheelchair. Carefully, with great struggle, finally landed his rump on the ground uncomfortably-or maybe too comfortably- close to Cecilia's side.

"I don't know at what cost," she said at last. "Probably one that will feel too high. Still Charles, no matter the cost, you set my brother free from his prison. You gave me hope for a life without fear, without anger, without hate. Whatever offense may happen because of what you started-I will never stop being grateful to you for that. I will never stop believing in what you told me. You've given the world the chance for peace… No matter the cost, you have to believe that they'll _take it_ ," and with that, she flipped open a page of one of the books she had chosen, and proceeded, with a cheerfulness that belied that they had ever been talking about death and faith, to read out-loud to him.

Charles leaned back against the bookcase, closed his eyes, and for once, was at peace.


	30. Chapter 30

**_A month later:_**

Erik felt really, really old while he was watching Logan and Colossus work. Especially since he knew he might have been able to manipulate a tank once upon a time, but that time had faded, the last bit of sand draining to the bottom of the hourglass, fading away to…

"Erik!" a swift smack upside the head brought him out of his poetic stupor. He laughed aloud and rubbed the back of his head, smiling at Emma. She resisted the urge to hit him again-he could see in her eyes that his melancholy paean had amused her secretly. He grinned, pleased to have made her smile.

He loved her smile. Then again, he had already come to the conclusion long ago that he loved her. "Pay attention! There's a tank _right there_!" She ordered, pointing towards the green and brown automobile heading towards them at top speed.

"And?" he inquired without much worry, from where he was posted behind a large building. "It looks as if our team has it covered," he pointed to the mutants ahead, who were quickly dissembling the tank. Raven had already made it to the top, climbing into the cockpit with stealthy fluidness.

Azazel was right behind her. Riptide, Wolverine and Colossus were keeping the tank occupied. "Colossus, throw me!" Wolverine bellowed suddenly, his metal claws screeching from his skin. The newest addition to the X-Men team, mere weeks old in their operational team, did as he was told. With one muscular arm-now made of the same metal from the tank he had touched-he picked up Logan around the waist and flung him towards the tank.

Erik even cringed when he saw the feral _acidity_ of Logan's attack. In the past month, much had changed, due mainly to their two new friends.

Or, in Charles's case, more than a friend really.

The story had come full circle now as Erik realized just how fun it was to tease his friend about his newest crush. The night of their dinner had gone splendidly. Jason had showed them his powers, and with a bit of assistance from Charles and Erik, and much encouragement from the others, had slowly began to grow in them.

Meanwhile, Cecilia had come to the mansion every day to borrow and return books from the library. While she was there, she and Charles would speak for hours on end, about the human/mutant situation, about Charles's speeches, about the children and eventually their conversations had led to Charles one day asking Erik what he thought of making Cecilia the new head of the X-Men schools for Mutant Youth.

Despite the bombing and the deaths following, other schools around the country were continuing to be built, and they needed an overall leader; a head. At first, it was decided that since Charles had funded it, he should continue Eliza and John's dreams, but due to the increasing popularity of his speeches (He gave up to six in a week now) and the efforts of his X-Men….Charles was a busy bee.

And Cecilia had begged for some way to help the others, at first assisting Cassidy, but she quickly became bored at house-running.

 _"_ _What do I think?"_ Erik had gasped when Charles asked after his opinion one day during one of their chess matches _. "She's a human, Charles! How can she run schools for mutants?"_ He demanded.

 _"_ _You're forgetting that she_ _ **raised**_ _Jason,"_ Charles pointed out.

 _"_ _She can't ever understand…"_ he had insisted.

Charles had given him a sharp look. " _I think you underestimate her empathy,"_

 _"_ _I think you like her and you're allowing your feelings to cloud your judgment,"_ Erik replied calmly. Charles blushed.

 _"_ _Do as you wish,"_ Erik had finally conceded, moving his Knight _. "But be cautious Charles. Remember, reason over emotion,"_ and Charles had ducked his head, bashful and brooding.

 _"_ _Thank you for being honest with me, Erik."_

Cecilia, the next day, was appointed overarching head of all X-Men Mutant Youth schools and Erik invited Colossus to be on the team. The other man had accepted without hesitation, eyes shining with pride. So now, a few weeks into these new arrangements, four new X-Men schools had been opened and were running.

And they were stuck in South Sudan fighting off an evil warlord. Of course.

The cannon of the tank promptly fell at his feet, lolling back and forth as the wires sticking out of the top sparked and flickered with electricity. Erik looked up, arms crossed, at his X-Men. "Well," Colossus observed, perky as a squirrel as Wolverine came, swiping his greasy claws on his pants. Raven followed, nudging the tank top with her toe disdainfully.

"We're done. Where to now, Chief?" Erik smiled.

"Told you," he quipped to Emma gloatingly before stepping forward. Not for the first time, he felt perfect, contented pride stir in his chest for these amazing group of people. He was honored to stand at their side, to be their leader.

However, neither he nor Charles were unaware that the year was ending. It was September now. Three more months, and the bet was over. The thought of leaving sent a wracking shiver of grief through Erik.

 _"_ _In the morning, the sun will come again."_

He turned his mind from it and marched over to where they were. "Now, my friends," he coughed in the suffocating heat. "We're off to China."

* * *

"Okay….Okay…Waldo…Waldo I know times are tough right now…You just have to….Yes, I quite understand, but...No…No, you can't just hire anybody!... Because I do not want any random riff-raff walking about _my_ schools! ... Waldo, you can do it. I have faith in you to hire competent people …" Emma, sitting on the couch in her small hotel room, let out a barely disguised attempt at holding back a laugh. Cecilia sent her friend a murderous glance.

Emma, sitting on the couch in her small hotel room, let out a barely disguised attempt at holding back a laugh. Cecilia sent her friend a murderous glance.

"Listen, Waldo…Yes, but…No, they don't all have to be Mutants …If we're to have equality, then the students will have …Do _not_ interrupt me Waldo …Here, just put Wanda on the phone ….Goodness…No, I'm _sure_ that teachers need a technical teaching degree to actually teach anywhere …Wait, did…? Did you call those few people I recommended?...Waldo, I told you…No, I can't come there. I'm all the way in Michigan …The school is very nice here, now …Yes…. _Yes_ …Professor X will be at the Grand opening. My sources told me….. Yes, they're reliable …" Emma watched her with unconcealed amusement, cocking a brow at Cecilia's frustration.

"No…No, but…Waldo, you should know what the Professor looks like. He's on the news about every day…Yes, elections are coming up…No, I am not running for Governor…" Emma grumbled her dissatisfaction about this fact.

"Waldo...No, I can't….What do you mean why do we need teachers anyway?...You cannot have a school without teachers…No, no there aren't…" Emma cocked a brow at her.

"Tell him to shut his trap and give you a moderately intelligent person," she mouthed suggestively.

"Shut up, Emma…No, not you, Waldo, I meant…Oh, never mind... Put Wanda on the phone please ….I am not being _unreasonable_ … Waldo?...Waldo, don't you dare hang up on me…Because if I fire you, you'll be poor. How does that sound for a good reason?" she rolled her eyes. Emma applauded approvingly.

"Don't look at me like that Emma! Waldo, put Wanda on the phone now… Good, very well, bye. Wanda? Oh, thank goodness, can you do something for me...? Yes…Uh huh, yes, that's right…Finally...I knew you would understand my hesitance. I want real teachers for these children. They deserve that," Azazel appeared in the doorway, beckoning Emma to him impatiently. They had to leave.

Cecilia gave them a little wave, sad that her friend had to leave so soon. They had only just begun their game of chess.. Azazel smiled back, discussing something softly with Emma. "What? Oh…Oh, no, that wasn't my point…Wanda, do you or do you not know how to find quality teachers…? Alright, I'll speak it over with the professor…No, Wanda….No, I do not always just ask him…"

She was offended that Wanda believed her to be so very dependent and unknowing. This was her role; that of taking care of the schools. Charles had his own problems. She only bothered him when it was important, or when she just needed to talk to someone who would remain silent and listen to her speak with compassionate, understanding sapphire eyes.

Not that she sat there studying them or anything like that.

Emma heard that thought. She laughed aloud. _You are so into him._

 _Shut up, Emma._

Azazel gave her a curious look as he wandered over to the small couch and plopped down tiredly, rubbing his aching ankles tiredly. _I've got to stop pacing when I think,_ she thought.

"Are you sure you'll be okay…? How's the building coming along? Alright. Alright, I'll see you at the grand opening…Remember to send in that paperwork to the local magistrate…No, that means courts…Judges, Wanda. Yes, those guys …I'm sure they'll comply. The Professor has powerful friends…Yes; he was given the key to the City of Los Angeles last week…He spoke to the Vice President already. What did he say? Oh, the usual. You should wait for equality. It will come. Please keep the crowd nonviolent. You freak me out mutant, yes…. ….Okay…Okay, Wanda. Good luck. Yes, goodbye," And with that she ended the torment.

She looked up at Azazel and Emma with exhaustion. "You know what? After all the schools are built, I'm firing Waldo. And Wanda. Just for being so dang complicatedly irritating," she told them huffily. Azazel crossed his arms, his tail flicking with mocking.

"No, you won't." he snorted.

"You're too nice darling," Emma agreed, before swiftly emptying the chess board. "Until we meet again, my friend," Cecilia nodded and stood to give her a hug

"Thank you for coming Emma. I was getting lonely here alone," she said, glancing out of the small hotel window at the bustling city lights below. It was late at night here. Emma nodded.

"Of course," she said.

"I don't understand why Moira does not protect you too," Azazel stated confusedly. "You are in just as much danger of assassination," Cecilia snorted.

"No, I'm not. I'm a human, remember? Besides, Moira checks up on me every half hour anyway. If I didn't answer once, she'd be here in a heartbeat. I'm perfectly safe," she promised.

Emma sighed. "You're a worse liar than Charles. By the way, when are you heading home?" The mansion, where about eleven books awaited her careful and dutiful attentions.

Cecilia shrugged. "When my work is finished," she replied, simply.

"It's hilarious," Azazel observed dryly. "How you think that there will ever be an end to work," she grinned.

"One can dream, Ivan. Now shoo, shoo! You two heroes have a world to save. I'll best you at chess later Emma," said person rolled her eyes at her. Ever since Cecilia had saved Warren, Emma had been perhaps the friendliest to her besides Charles, welcoming her into the tight nit circle of mutant kinship with open arms. Cecilia was relieved to have her at her side.

"There she goes dreaming again," Emma chuckled. "Very well. Be safe, Cecilia,"

"Likewise," Emma cast another ironic smile before grabbing Azazel's hand. They were gone in a poof. Cecilia flopped unto her couch, letting her feet fly into the air and against the armrest at the end.

Her room lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Though Cecilia had become accustomed to traveling alone, it was at moments like these when she missed the comfort of human contact. She missed Jason, wondered where he was. Emma had told her he was fine (this was always the first thing Cecilia asked when she saw her) but the worry of a sister could not be dissuaded for long.

Then, maybe a few minute, maybe a few hours later, there was a knock at the door. She jumped, having been half way to sleep. Traveling the country attending the Opening ceremonies of her schools, giving speeches and answering questions about the school was a more exhausting job than she had assumed it would be. It was good work though.

The occupational hazards of assassination were ever present though.

Cecilia stared at the door, half expecting what happened the day they were found out to repeat itself. She looked out the windows, half expecting a helicopter to appear over her deck at any moment, shining a thousand cameras into her face and ordering her to put her hands up.

"Not to worry," Charles assured her curtly on the other side of the door. "I come in peace," he said.

Cecilia's shoulders slumped with relief and she hopped to her feet, her heart lightened by the thought of seeing Charles again. Though, what was he doing here? She bounded over to the door, checked the peephole just in case, before unlatching the lock and allowing Charles to roll in.

"Charles!" She cried. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in New Mexico," Charles replied cheerily.

"I was. Moira says hello. Hank says hello also, but in Japanese," he swiveled in his chair to face her. He had a long wooden box held in his lap, polished and new. She eyed it wonderingly.

"So what are you doing here?" She repeated, aware that she was only in a thin green cotton night shift and a robe. She blushed, thinking about how immodest the garments were. If Charles noticed her bare calves or makeup-less face, he said nothing about it.

"I brought you something," Charles told her with a small smile, patting the box in his lap. Cecilia closed the door behind him, locking it. It would not do to have someone hear Professor X in her room alone at night. They might start thinking indecent thoughts. She certainly did...Not. Yeah.

"You came all the way from _New Mexico_ to give me something? Why couldn't it wait? And _how_ did you even get here?" She asked as Charles handed her the wooden box, tied shut by a single green bow. She took it, curious. Then set it down. It had been about two weeks since she had last seen Charles. True, they were supposed to have met up next week, and she had about four of the books from his library in her suitcase, but seeing him made her feel safe.

She had always lived in a world where she never knew if anyone would attack. He, on the other hand, would sense it before it came. Cecilia had never particularly wished for powers. Upon seeing her brother's struggles with them, she had always assumed they were more a curse than a blessing, but after his training and seeing the other mutants…

Now she understood that the mutations themselves were things of beauty and mystery and prestige. She understood that they were blessings disguised as curses, and Charles was one of the most hidden ones. She smiled at him. "The very fact that you're here is enough. Tell me how you've been," she began, but Charles shook an admonitory finger at her.

"You just don't want to seem greedy in front of me. But no worries, my dear. I'll be glad if you seem so," now she was _really_ curious as to what was in the box. There were benefits to having a rich friend. If that was what they were.

"I don't really _need_ anything," she protested, still valiantly trying. Besides, Cecilia really didn't want anything. The time and work people-Charles- had put into helping her continue Eliza and John's dream was enough. Now all she wanted was to see it through. And see the world brought one step closer to peace.

"Ah, true," Charles's eyes sparkled. "But though you might not need it, I want you to have it. So," he pushed it towards her firmly. "You will accept this gift whether you like it or not," he teased.

She shook her head. He _was_ a stubborn one. "Fine," Cecilia sat down at the couch she had been in a moment ago. Before she opened it however, she patted the spot next to her. As according to their unspoken custom, Charles lifted himself out of his wheelchair (his upper body rippled quite nicely when he did that) and plopped down next to her, his legs dragging like sticks.

"I feel as if I'm opening Pandora's Box," she joked as she untied the green ribbon holding the box closed.

Charles smiled. "That wasn't on sale," he stated. She laughed aloud and the box came open with a light click.

Slowly, feeling as if she were accepting a holy gift, Cecilia opened it. She peered inside the red velvet insides, and beheld a perfect violin, held firmly in place. Cecilia let out a cry of delight and scooped it up by the neck, holding it tenderly.

A small silver chain dropped from where her fingers had touched. Charles caught it and handed it back to her, blushing like a school boy. Cecilia studied the small pendant in his hands. It was a necklace.

The small woman was a light green color, glowing as a tiny ornament in Charles's hand. His fingers wrapped around her with exquisite gentleness as he held her up by the chain she hung on.

Cecilia's eyes went wide at the beauty of the long-haired detailed doll. Tiny eyes stared at her with majestic curiosity, the body was straight, proud and the doll held one fist in the air, triumphantly, defiantly. The other was at her side, passively, dangerously. In the woman's hands sprouted a long scepter, the end a miniscule ball of diamond, the intimate curves and carvings making it seem as if she would command an army any second now.

"Charles," she breathed, as he handed it to her. "It's wonderful, it's beautiful, it's…" she breathed, handling the fragile curves and sharp edges of her new gift with reverence.

"It was my mother's," Charles whispered. Cecilia's eyes snapped up to meet Charles's, and the honesty in his eyes confirmed his statement.

"No! Charles, I couldn't…" she began, but Charles held up a hand to halt the flow of her words.

"Take it. She stopped wearing it after…. Well, a long time ago, before she began drinking. When she was kind, and caring and loving and strong. She dreamed of giving it to a daughter one day," he met her eyes, his own twinkling. "You'll do," despite his gentle teasing Cecilia tried to swallow past the sudden lump in her throat, and found herself unable. She looked away, tears stinging her eyes.

"I love it," she finally said, having no other words. Charles nodded.

"And the violin?"

"The greatest gift I've ever received."

"Good. It was either that or a mansion on Barbados," she laughed again, then the chuckle turned into a hitching sob of… Something good, when she picked up the beautiful violin, her fingers tracing every elegant sweep and noble curve. It was so well-tuned, made out of the finest wood. This must have cost a fortune.

"Charles, I don't understand," she gasped. "What is this for?" She asked.

Now he looked as if he didn't understand. His brows came down with confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Cecilia bit her bottom lip, trying to think of a way to phrase the question without seeming rude. Thankfully, Charles must have either seen it in her mind or caught up to her line of thinking. "It's not an extra gift for saving Warren, if that's what you're thinking," he told her.

Now she was really confused. No one had ever gotten hear gift except if it was Christmas or her Birthday, and only Jason had ever gotten her anything. Usually little things because that was all he could afford. Why…?

"I wanted to give it to you," Charles explained, simply. "I saw the violin in Texas and, well, instantly thought you'd like it and the pendant," he shrugged. "It has been sitting in my mother's old boudoir for years, collecting dust. Raven won't take it, and I don't want to just give it away to anyone," he wrinkled his nose.

"I'm not overly fond of my family, but I respect my ancestors enough not to just donate family heirlooms," he said.

Cecilia gently turned the small queen in her hand. "How long has it been in your family for?" She asked softly, flattered that he would gift her with such a beautiful pendant.

"Only about three generations. Someone bought it in the mid-eighteenth century I believe," it was _that_ old? Cecilia suddenly felt as if the gifts were too grand. How could Charles give these to her a person he had met only a month before? What did it mean? She set the pendant down softly on her lap.

"Are you sure you want to give this to me?" She asked again, unsurely.

"It is why I came from New Mexico," Charles answered with a smile. Then, seeing her downtrodden face, he sighed softly.

"Cecilia," he called. She looked up to see him gazing at her with a tenderness that made her heart jump and look away again. She had never been… _Stared_ at like that before. What did it mean?

"It means," he gently took her chin in between his fingers, turning her head towards him. "That you're important to me. You and Jason have done so much-for the children, for the X-Men, for the school- and you've shown such an amazing resilience. You deserve more," the ending was phrased vehemently. Cecilia felt ears in her eyes.

"I didn't give _you_ anything," she pointed out, still wondering if anyone could be so generous as to just give people things, without reason or wonder.

"Really? Because funnily enough I remember having a bookmark from North Dakota, a water painting from Washington, syrup from Canada and a dream catcher from Idaho sitting on my desk when I've returned home the past few weeks from a mysterious benefactor," she blushed, caught.

"I thought you'd like them," she mumbled, embarrassed to be discovered so easily. She remembered that-finding odd knick-knacks and small mementos from different states along her travels and buying them for Charles. She had meant for it to remain a mystery, preferring to work in the shadows.

 _I should have known he'd guess who it was_ , she thought, a bit disappointed, but also glad that she could tell some of the interesting stories that went along with each item.

"I did," he was looking at her with amusement now. "Admittedly, at first I thought they were from Erik-but he would never be so thoughtful as to do something like that for me. Not when he has Emma to buy things for!" He laughed.

"Erik loves you," Cecilia scolded. Charles blushed-as he or Erik always did whenever anyone pointed out their unique bond- and gave a mild half shrug, his shoulder momentarily bumping hers.

"He's my brother," he said. "Anyway," he nodded towards her gifts. "Do you like them?" he asked.

Cecilia gently ran a hand down her violin and necklace. She could only nod, understanding that this wasn't just a gift, it was a sign of his affection and encouragement, it was his way of saying that he was proud of her.

He was not only giving them his family's heirloom, but his admission that she was part of his family now. Wherever she went, whenever she had this, it would always be a reminder of his regard for her. She found tears of happiness in her eyes. She blinked them away.

She had never been more grateful for anything in her entire life, and she had never imagined, all that time ago when she first attended this man's speech in Pittsburgh, that she might _meet_ him, much less be given gifts from him. Only in her wildest dreams… Best not to think about that right now though. It would make her blush.

"I feel unworthy of such things-" Charles snorted –"but yes, Charles. I absolutely adore them. Thank you so much!" She picked up the violin as if it were a child, cradling it to her arm. It was a perfect fit. How had he known?

 _The benefits of having a telepathic friend,_ she thought with a smile. "Thank you for my presents," Charles replied, grinning. "You'll have to play for the children when you get back. They'd love it. How are the schools coming along?"

Cecilia sighed and tied the necklace around her throat. It slipped onto her skin coldly, then dropped to sit right above her heart. "As well as to be expected. Tell me, do you know of any _good_ teachers from Oxford? I'll not have perfect riff-raff around my schools teaching these children and that's what I'm getting," Charles pursed his lips, seeing the dilemma.

"Are you accepting only mutants?" he wondered.

"Dear heavens, no," She snorted. "If were to be an equal society of peace, the prejudice on both sides needs to be eradicated," she reminded him. Charles smiled.

"I like the way you think, Cecilia. I'll look into it. I'm sure I can find some actual teachers with Cerebro, if nothing else," ah, yes, that _thing_ which allowed him to locate people. It looked like a giant baseball cap to her, but she had to admit it was an amazing design. Hank was a brilliant inventor.

"Thank you. Professor," she teased. "By the way, you just missed Emma and Azazel," she told him.

"Really? What were they doing here?"

"I was beating Emma at Chess," he chuckled softly.

"You two are worse than Erik and I. You and Emma have become good friends, I've noticed. Do you have a thing for telepaths?"He asked teasingly. She snorted and gave him a light push on the arm.

"Only Emma, scoundrel. She is my friend, though. She asked about the school one day and how I'm doing and we ended up talking about anything and everything… She's a good person," she told him, proud to have made such a close bond in the family already.

"She is," Chares agreed. "I'm planning her and Erik's wedding already. It's going to be in Brazil," he informed her.

"Do they get a choice?"

"Of course not. Should the cake be vanilla or chocolate?"

"Chocolate. With butter cream frosting and lemons on top. You know how Emma likes lemons. And Erik is fond of chocolate. But not German chocolate, for good reason," she said immediately, having observed this.

Charles shook his head wonderingly. "Once again, you are the most perceptive person I have ever met," she preferred to think of herself as merely curious. And observant. Hiding mutants for three years in one's house gives a person a keen eye and good ear for listening.

"By the way, Charles, _how_ did you get here exactly?"

"Oh," he shrugged. "I met a mutant in New Mexico who can open portals to anywhere in the world at whim. I asked her for a ride," he answered, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"You and your fan-club," she snickered. Charles hummed beneath his breath, tipping his head to stare at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, and Cecilia noticed how tired he seemed.

"Worried about the bet?" A single nod.

"Only three more months, Cecilia. In three months a miracle has to happen or…" or Erik was leaving to take over the world. She had heard about the bet, a slip of Charles's mouth one night, and managed to glean the entire story from him. She sighed and folded one leg beneath the other. Cecilia ran a hand through her short hair, pulling at the stray straggles at the base of her neck anxiously.

"Who would he be taking with him?" She asked softly, knowing that this was probably what had kept Charles up.

"The entire X-Men," Charles replied. "Including Raven," his own sister. Into a real warzone.

"Jason will never go along with it," she stated certainly though it made her heart pang. She knew how much her brother loved being part of the X-Men. He felt that with them, helping people around the world, he had finally found his purpose in life. To have that taken away by society would break his heart.

And her brother's heart was _her_ business.

"I know," Charles said softly, popping one eye to look at her. She felt him squeeze her hand. She squeezed back.

"That's why you've been working so hard lately. More speeches, more marches, more demonstrations, more schools," it was a statement, Charles didn't deny it.

"I don't want them to leave," the plaintive vulnerability in his voice was a testament to the trust he had for her. She felt her heart twist. She didn't want Emma to leave either (and she surely would. Emma would follow Erik to the ends of the Earth) and she certainly did not want to become her friend's enemy, confined to the opposite side of every dispute there on.

She let out a long breath. "We have to have faith," he snorted.

"In what?"

"In the goodness inside people, Charles. It will come through. History has taught us that it always does," he opened his eyes, gazing listlessly at the ceiling.

"Yes," he muttered softly. "But will it come through in time to save my family?" There was no answer for that. They lapsed into a tense silence, both of them thinking on their own thoughts.

At length, Cecilia could only say one thing. "Well, I can't promise you much else, but I can promise you that no matter what happens, Charles," she turned to face him. "I'll always be there for you," she promised, sincerely, for there was nowhere else she would rather be than at his side.

Charles opened both eyes, and the way they glittered with gratitude made her smile back. "Well, then," he squeezed her hand. She realized that they were still holding hands, and couldn't help but shiver when a tingle went through her arm. His hand was so much bigger than hers, enclosing, warm, soft, poised. "I can have faith in something definite, at least."

She grinned. "Definitely."

* * *

Whoo hoo! Hundred review mark! Thank you to all of my readers out there. You guys are awesome :D

~QueenYoda


	31. Chapter 31

**_Three days later:_**

"Erik, my friend. I didn't know you were back. Where's Raven?" Charles asked cheerfully as he wheeled his way into Erik's room without knocking, as was custom. Erik did not look up from the envelope in his hands, the golden swirls making something painful echo in his memory. Charles caught unto it at once.

He stopped. "What is it?" he asked, as he reached Erik's side, noting how one hand held the envelope while the other gently cradled the menorah. Erik exhaled slowly.

"I don't know. It was delivered to us in Beijing," he replied. Charles frowned.

"By who?"

"I don't know that either. One of the servers brought it in. It looks… Official," and not only that, it looked elegant, elaborate, stamped with a golden seal that was so bright Erik couldn't read the engraved words on the seal. The envelope itself was tinted a dark brown color, like that of royal fabrics. It was grander than anything he had ever seen, but still, it reminded him of…

"When it first began," he said softly. Charles was waiting for an explanation for his unease. "We would get letters in the mail, from the government. Telling us to pack and come to the train station for whatever reason he could concoct," Erik growled low in his throat. "Those letters took people to the Camps," he hissed.

Charles did not need a greater explanation to understand, and to Erik's relief, he merely took the envelope out of his hands silently. "I know," the telepath then said softly, meeting Erik's eyes. "But this time, Erik-you aren't alone. And if they want you, they'll have to go through me," it was a reckless promise of loyalty, but Erik had given his own fair share of reckless promises. He understood the sincerity, the deep affection that had to exist for one to be given.

He smiled feebly, and gently set his most prized possession down. He sat down at his reading hair, letting himself sink into its lushness. Charles wheeled himself opposite, examining the card intently as if he suspected there was another bomb inside. Erik knew that the bombing on the school still haunted him; that he thought about those ten people on a daily basis, and though Warren's wing had long healed, the boy still had nightmares about being taken away. Erik knew it was Charles or Cassidy who comforted him those nights.

It was enough to make a man go mad. But Charles was stronger than that and even so, he had a bit of help. Erik imagined Cecilia was the reason why Charles was able to smile still. He had seen the way his younger friend looked at her.

 _I suppose I'd better prepare him then,_ Erik thought, taking no joy in the thought of telling Charles that it would never work. Especially considering that he liked Cecilia; he had admired her courage and kindness, intellect and insightfulness since meeting her at the bombing.

But the fact remained: she was human: Charles was mutant. Society would see it as a sin for them to get married. She would become an instant target for both malicious humans and mutants who would feel betrayed when their precious Professor X turned his attentions towards a different race. She would forever be in danger, and he forever in fear for her safety. It would end up tearing them apart.

But these problems were for another day. For now, Erik leaned back in his seat as Charles studied the envelope. "I heard you met with the Vice President," he stated.

Charles hummed in agreement. "What did he say?"

"Oh, what I expected," Charles set the envelope down. "He thanked me for staying nonviolent, commended my efforts, and then asked that I consider his position. That any mutant law would tear the country apart right now, so he could not come to a decision on it. He said that maybe in another twelve years, society would be ready. I told him we would pressure the government until it did as we wanted, he asked me to reconsider, I told him no… But the White House is very pretty on the inside," Erik crossed his arms.

"Of course he said that. Did he point out your British accent?" he grunted. Charles laughed.

"He did, yes! He does have a point though Erik. A mutant law does have the propensity to cause a second Civil War in this country," yes, exactly. What did Charles suppose he had been saying this entire time? Erik shrugged casually.

"A good playing field," Charles sent him a nasty glance.

"Rubbing it in, are you?" They only had three more months until the bet ended, and though humans and mutants had made small strides towards tolerant peace, there was nothing definite yet. Erik doubted that a definite miracle would come in three months. He sighed.

"I'm sorry Charles," he truly was. For Moira, Michael and Cecilia's sake he was. They were good people-his friends, if he wanted to be honest-he did not want to have to destroy their world for the sake of the majority. In fact, he was actually hoping something good did happen. He didn't want to fight humanity, not when he was sure there were more out there like them, but he would if he had too. This was war, and in war there were casualties.

"You know I don't want to leave," then there were the other mutants who had become his family. This place that had become his home. Charles, who would become his enemy in three months unless the world got its act together. The thought made Erik's throat ache with a sudden emotion.

"I know," Charles sighed and picked up the envelope again. He started to open it. Erik watched warily.

"Cecilia told Emma that you're planning a wedding," he continued, his foot tapping impatiently on the ground. What was the envelope for?

" _Your_ wedding," Charles specified. "It's going to be in Brazil," Erik narrowed his eyes. He no longer denied that he liked-loved-Emma Frost, but Charles had been planning this for months.

"Honestly Charles, what am I going to do with you?"

"Convince my sister to stop hating me?" Erik frowned.

"She doesn't _hate_ you," he said.

"She hasn't spoken to me in months, Erik," well, that was surprising. But that was not a sign of hatred. Perhaps…Lingering resentment or something, but not hatred. Erik was fully convinced that Raven loved Charles as much as he loved her, but unlike the telepath, she had a harder time admitting it. Especially since she was still angry at him for erasing parts of her memory.

"She's proud of you," he tried.

"She's proud that my followers are yelling out her phrase," Charles opened the envelope, unfolding a piece of paper within thoughtfully. He leaned back in his chair, scanning the contents.

"Well, she loves you anyway. She's just stubborn like her brother and won't say it. Forgiveness comes slowly to some people. Raven is one of them. Give it awhile more,"

"Erik…"

"After all," he continued, contemplating. He took two metal balls out of his pocket, the size of his toe, and started swirling them above his head. It helped him think. "I still haven't forgiven you for stealing my best tie. Where is that thing anyway?"

"Erik…"

"I know this won't have occurred to you, Charles, being a spoiled rich boy and everything, but just because you want it doesn't mean you can take it,"

" _Erik…"_

 _"_ Didn't you tell Kitty that the other day? By the way, I don't see how you're considered the disciplinarian in this house when you spoil those kids rotten. Why did you tell them that they could have a puppy?"

"Erik!"

"Cecilia talked you into it, didn't she? I bet she's already singled a dog out at the pound. I'll bet you five dollars Emma went with her. You realize dogs have to be _potty trained_ , right? And I'm not… Ow! What was that for?" Erik hissed when Charles gave him a very un-pacifist like knock upside the head; and having honed his muscles from wheeling himself around everywhere, it _hurt._ But when he looked down from where his eyes had been trained on the metal balls swirling above his head, he saw tears in Charles's eyes.

"Charles?" His eyes darted to the paper in his hands. Charles's hands were trembling. "What is it?"

Charles's answering grin could have rivaled the sun itself. " _It_ ," he whispered through a throat Erik could tell was husky with tears. "Is my victory. I told you so," he handed Erik the paper, laughing hysterically. Erik took the paper cautiously, wondering what in the world it could say that could make Charles so joyful….

His eyes widened, and Erik dropped the paper. It floated to the ground like a feather. _It's a trick,_ was his first thought, but it was swept away like leaves in the wind. The envelope was official. You couldn't fake something like that and really? Who would? "We…" he blinked, frankly stunned. Charles clapped him on the shoulder.

"Well done, you bloody idiot!" he cried, still laughing hysterically.

Erik had to finish the sentence to make it real. "We _won the Nobel Peace Prize_?"

* * *

 _ **A month later:**_

The day that Raven stood onstage to receive her Nobel Prize was the greatest day of her life.

 _"_ _It's never been done before,"_ Hank had told her excitedly, the night before when in a fit of sudden nervousness, Raven had come down to his lab. _"Not more than one person has ever won a Nobel Prize at one time. True, you guys are sort of sharing the coin but to each receive a medal of honor? Raven-this is huge!"_ And it was huge. Raven had not expected so many humans to show up, but the crowd was well into the thousands when she peeked out from behind the red curtain.

 _"_ _The first mutants to ever receive such an honor,"_ Charles had muttered, beaming as Emma helped Erik with his tie. He had looked staring right at Raven as he cried _"congratulations, my friends! I'm proud of you all!"_ Raven could not remember the last time Charles had ever said that to her and meant it. She was glad to have _finally_ done something that made her big brother proud.

Even Mutants showed up. She could see some of them-the high-up in the world, distinguished kinds but at least they were there-sitting in the crowd. Even some of the humans that they had saved around the world came to cheer them on. Ravens saw their familiar faces and had to stop herself from waving when the roar of the crowd almost deafened her.

 _"_ _I bet all of France is going to be there!"_ Moira had cried, her own eyes glittering with joy when the others had heard. For the ceremony was actually taking place at Versailles. One of those places Charles had always talked about with a gleam of longing but she had never really listened. She listened when she learned she was getting a Peace prize there.

 _"_ _I know all of Oxford is going to be there!"_ Charles had laughed.

The large stage where the ceremony happened sparkled in the spotlights shown on them. The podium was moved out of the way by the speaker and the X-Men walked out in a straight line, one after the other. First Erik then Emma, Riptide, Azazel, Riptide, Raven, Wolverine and Colossus. Everyone but Wolverine and Erik were beaming. Actually, everyone but Erik and Wolverine had been ecstatic. Erik because he would have to give a speech and Wolverine because he couldn't smoke in Versailles _and_ he had to wear a suit.

 _"_ _Why do I need to go?"_ Wolverine grunted.

 _"_ _And why aren't you coming?"_ Erik demanded of Charles, who hadn't stopped smiling when he heard. _"You started this entire thing! It was your stupid bet that stopped me from taking over the world!"_ He pointed out.

 _"_ _Your speech will be grand, Erik. And you've earned this far more than I have! Stopping Warlords, delivering mercy supplies, saving people from burning buildings, evacuating cities in floods, saving refugee camps, overseeing pacts between age old enemies… What have I done but cause public disturbances?"_

Part of Raven had agreed that really, it should have been Charles and Cecilia getting this prize, but another half of her recognized that they couldn't. Charles was technically seen as criminal in the U.S law while the X-Men were Good Samaritans helping those in need. It looked better for the Nobel committee to give _them_ a prize rather than the mutant nuisance of America.

A fire flamed in her soul whenever she thought of t, as she knew it burned in Erik's heart as well. Charles deserved more. _One day he'll get it,_ Raven vowed up on stage as the speaker had announced each of their names and gently set the shining silver medals around their necks. She bowed her head when her turn came, a flood of joy overcoming her when she realized that the crowd was cheering.

They were cheering for her blue form. In her blue form she had earned a Nobel Prize for Peace. She wasn't a freak. She was a hero. She had been judged on her actions rather than her appearance. When she looked up after the medal rested against her collarbone heavily, tears ran down her face.

She had never dreamed of it. She had never been more proud, never felt more like a woman before in her life. She looked down at the crowd when the last medal was given and met Hank's eyes. He was staring at her with such deep emotion that Raven suddenly wanted to jump down and kiss him. _We're not monsters, Hank,_ she thought to him. _We're heroes, we're heroes!_

And that was sort of what Erik's speech had been about. He stumbled through it inelegantly, obviously out of his element, but Raven saw more than a few tears on the faces of the crowd when he had finished with a flourishing _"this day will forever be known as the day that Mutant-kind was given real reason to hope for peace."_

Peace. She had never believed it could be an option. A fact which Charles had not let Erik forget for a minute. Raven had never seen her brother gloat so much. _"What did I tell you Erik? Hmm? We just had to have faith!"_

 _"_ _Oh so you ever had any doubts, Charles?"_

 _"_ _That's not the point! The point is that I won the bet with three months to spare! Ha, ha!"_ Which had made everyone laugh because no one minded that Charles had won the bet. In truth Raven had been dreading the moment when the three months ended, and she would fulfill her promise to leave with Erik. She would miss the children dreadfully. And Cassidy, Sean, Alex and Hank? How could she say goodbye to them when they had been through so much together? When they had started all of this?

Besides, Raven had found a sort of happiness helping other people. She loved traveling, and loved the smiles on the faces of the people they saved-be they mutant or human. She _loved_ what she did now, and how things were now, and had never wanted it to change.

But now, she didn't have to change.

So, in short, Raven had had a blast that night. The highlight, though, had been when during the after party festivities in the Hall of Mirrors, she had seen Charles silently pass Erik a small black box and Erik had taken Emma to the dance floor. Then, shocking her half out of her wits, he had proposed to her right there.

Emma had looked the most shocked out of the entire hall, her face blushing a scarlet red as everyone stopped, waiting for her reply. Kitty and Sean had given her some help coming up with a suitable reply.

Sean had cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted; his voice echoing in the massive, ancient hall: "This is the part where you tell him that you want a dowry of ten goats, five pigs and a cow!" To which Kitty added

"And a puppy!" Azazel had been the first to burst out laughing after those eloquent answers. Soon, the entire hall was laughing while Emma jumped into Erik's arms laughing and crying.

"Yes! Of course I will!" she ended up saying, instead of Sean and Kitty's suggestions. Now, as Raven stood near the refreshment table with a glass of water in her hand, she watched the steady milling of people coming in and out.

There were about twenty of them near Emma and Erik, congratulating them effusively. Logan was smoking in the corner with the speaker, his tie untied and his suit rumpled from… Whatever he had been doing. Alejandro was covertly filling his wine glass with chocolate from the chocolate fountain and handing the cups to Sean, who was hiding beneath the table ready to bring the glasses offered home. She shook her head, sniggering. _Those two._

Moira and Michael were in the balcony above the hall, shoulders touching as they kept a stern eye on the mutants and any who came near them. Despite Charles's adamant protestation that they all take a break and relax tonight, Moira and Michael still insisted on being their secret protectors. It was good to have them. They were magnificent at their jobs.

Azazel was dancing with the Italian Ambassador, smiling flirtatiously at something she said. Jason was talking with Cassidy and Alex, teasing them about something or another. Raven suspected they would celebrating their wedding next, right after Charles's that was. Charles and Hank were surrounded by legislators who listened to him debating something with… Was that the _Queen Of England_? Only those two would. Honestly, sometimes Raven feared they were too much alike.

Maybe that was why she loved Hank so much.

The children were surrounded by mutants and humans who laughed and offered them sweets in exchange for a glimpse into their powers and lives. So far Kitty had recited ten of the twelve planets and Warren had described how fire was made, Ororo had recited half of Shakespeare's Macbeth and Rogue had correctly recited four mathematical equations. Their academic successes seemed to fill the crowd with glee.

Raven sighed with content. At that moment, there was nowhere else on Earth she would have rather been. She was happy. Fully and completely happy. "Having fun?" she turned, and marked off the only person she had not yet seen. Cecilia looked beautiful in her ice blue dress that wrapped around her frame in light folds that sparkled with silver strands. The dress pooled at her ankles, exposing one fine leg up to her knee. Charles's mother's necklace rested around her neck.

Raven smiled as Cecilia walked over and offered her a chocolate covered strawberry. She took it, studying this woman who she knew Charles was in love with. "Thanks. Yeah, I am having fun. More fun than I've ever had, actually," she admitted.

Cecilia beamed. "Good. You deserve happiness, Raven," soft green eyes sparkled at her with sincere compassion. "In all of its forms," she added, nodding subtly to Hank. Raven blushed.

"We wouldn't work out," she stammered.

"I think you work out so well it is uncanny," Cecilia argued mildly. She bit into her own strawberry and added: "no one lives forever Raven. One day, you'll see just how much you're cared for… By many people," Raven cleared her throat, wanting to change the subject. One day? Not likely.

"Are you having fun?" Was the only thing she could think to ask. Cecilia nodded and gestured to the children.

"I was watching over them, but it looks as if they can take care of themselves," Raven chuckled softly just as Erik, Emma and Charles arrived. Emma was giggling over something Erik had told her. The ring on her finger shimmered in the light.

"Raven," Charles addressed her. "I believe I've said it to everyone about ten times by now, but I am _so proud_ of you," he _had_ told everyone-including her- that about ten times tonight, but Raven was glad to hear it again. She grinned.

"I never would have been able to do it without you Charlie," she replied fondly.

"Nonsense," the telepath declared. "All of you earned these awards quite without my assistance," Raven and Erik exchanged amused glances. Only Charles would say that. Cecilia put a hand on Charles's shoulder, glancing behind her at the children. Charles nodded, as if they had shared a silent conversation, and she walked away with smiles at them all. Charles's eyes followed her for a long second, awed.

"That being said," Erik continued when she had gone, giving Charles a 'you're not fooling me,' look. "About my wedding… I do need a Best Man," his eyes softened into uncertainty when he looked at Charles for confirmation.

"So help me Erik, if you dare give that title to anyone but me, I will break my vow of nonviolence to kill you," Charles warned him. Raven and Emma laughed. Erik smiled in relief. He clapped Charles on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't dream of it Professor," he agreed.

"Good," Charles snickered. "Because _I'm_ the one who got you two together," Erik rolled his eyes. Emma snorted.

"You pestered us for months, Charles," she snorted.

"Emma, what did I say about telling me the truth about things? This is why we can't be friends," Raven giggled at the comfortable banter between the two and let her eyes wander over the luxurious hallways of this magnificent place. Her fingers lightly traced the medal at her throat and she sighed with perfect happiness. Their family wasn't splitting up. Relations between mutants and humans were getting better. Soon, the world might be as they all envisioned it.

Soon, they would have peace. She had never been happier.

"I think I'll take the children home," Charles was saying when she returned to reality, a smile still plastered on her face. "It is far past their curfew," he said.

"And then you're coming back?" Erik asked. Charles chuckled.

"Oh, no, my friends. It's far past my curfew as well, and I have a speech to prepare for tomorrow afternoon. Stay, enjoy yourselves! I'll see you in the morning," he encouraged them with a brief wave of his hand.

"Over-achiever," Raven teased. He winked at her.

"Always, sister mine," his eyes scanned the place for the children as he called them and Azazel to him telepathically. "Now, I'm off. Have fun, all of you deserve it," he gave her a pointed look at this. She grinned her promise.

"Goodnight then," she leaned down to kiss his forehead.

"Goodnight Charlie," she whispered. He squeezed her arm momentarily before Hank appeared behind him, having responded to the summons. Alex, Cassidy and Sean approached next, Sean carrying five cups of chocolate.

"Ready, Professor?" A yawn was answer enough. Smiling at her, Hank wheeled Charles back to where the children all stood, rubbing their eyes sleepily and yawning. They perked up when they saw Sean with the chocolate, and the last thing Raven heard before the remainder of her family vanished was Cecilia forbidding them to have sweets this late; like the mother hen that she was.

"May I have this dance, Madame?" Erik asked Emma sweetly. She took his offered hand and allowed him to whisk her away. Raven couldn't help but feel as if everything would be alright as she watched them. They looked so happy. Everyone looked happy, and that was a rare thing in this world nowadays.

 _It has taken awhile, but we finally got our Happily Ever After_ , she thought.


	32. Chapter 32

In a shaded corner of Versailles, a gray-haired man sat waiting for his companion, hidden from the plain view of human and mutant alike. He glared at the smiling X-Men. What right did those freaks have to walk the halls of this ancient castle? It made his blood boil.

They were all _possessed._

He watched as that _devil spawn_ who called himself an Xavier vanished in a puff of red smoke with the rest of his abominations. He snarled, deep in his throat.

Tonight, they would die.

The other came, dressed in the deepest black. They met eyes full of hatred.

"Did you get it?" He asked softly. The other nodded and slipped a crumpled sheet of paper into his hand just as the red-skinned one returned a few seconds later, without the others.

"The coordinates of their hiding hole," the leader squinted at the numbers. His brows shot up. I should have known. He chuckled deep in his throat. "What is it?" his partner asked. "Do you know it?" He nodded and waved a dismissive hand.

"Assemble the troops. We're headed to New York."

* * *

It didn't take long to put the children to sleep.

All of them.

Within minutes of returning home, the youngest ones had all been placed in their respective rooms and had fallen into a deep slumber. Even Kitty had gone quietly and without a story. Sean, Cassidy, Alex and Hank stumbled into the rooms with mumbles of 'goodnight,' and brief hugs.

Then it was only her and Charles. Cecilia changed into pajama bottoms and a long sleep sweater, settling her favorite robe over it. It was almost December, and the cold winter air had already started breathing from the Atlantic. Then she snuck down the halls to Charles's room with her violin. She found him also having already showered and changed, waiting. He smiled when she walked in.

"Welcome," he said. Cecilia did not ask how he had known she was coming. She knew he hadn't read her mind because she felt it when he did that, like a soft breath in the corner of her mind wafting over her thoughts. He probably had just _known_. Charles knew certain things like that.

"Why thank you," his room was smaller than it should have been, barely more than a bed and a bookshelf. Almost everyone in the house had it grander. But that was one of the endearing things about this man-he was simple at heart, yet liked to give everyone else complicated things. She gripped the necklace he had given her, hidden beneath her shirt, and walked over to his bed.

She sat down. "I was going to show you a new tune I picked up in Tennessee," she told him. "But I don't want to wake the others," he cocked a brow, wheeling beside her.

"Then why did you still bring your violin?" he asked confusedly.

"In case one of the children woke and asked what I was doing. I tell them that I polish it whenever I get a spare moment in the library where it's quiet."

"You have done that."

"So it's not a lie," he chuckled and shook his head.

"You are a sneaky one, my dear. Tell me, for what reason have you come to me then?" as if he didn't already know the answer.

"The same reason you stayed up for me, Charlie. To talk," they did that quite often really. And especially now when no one would bother them? It was the perfect time just to sit and be… Content. Charles slid out of his wheelchair with practiced grace and sat down beside her.

"You read my mind," they chuckled softly. "Something has occurred to me though," she sat cross-legged, listening. They had gotten into the habit of asking each other personal questions, as if they had known each other forever but only needed to fill in some fine details in the complicated artistry that was their friendship. "Where are your and Jason's parents?" She frowned.

Ah. _Them._

"Dead," she said curtly. Charles cocked a brow at the vehemence in her voice. "We didn't see eye to eye," she explained, phrasing it nicely.

"On what?"

"On Jason," she replied. "In truth, we have the same mother. Different father's," she felt no shame telling Charles this, though she never mentioned it to someone else. The fact that her mother had had an affair with one man while still married to the other was scandalous. And frankly, _wrong._

"Jason's father was a good man. He was a true father to me, but he died serving in France during the War. Then my father moved in," she sighed. "My mother had never been… The most measured person in the world. She was too fond of gambling and partying, but when Jason's father was around, he kept her grounded. Steady. After he died, she fell back into it," Cecilia shivered, suddenly cold.

"He was gone for long hours of the night, doing who knew what, and my father… He did bad things," what those things had been exactly, she had little clue. She only knew that he would sell illegal substances from the backyard, and was part of a gang. What that all detailed, she did not _want_ to know.

"Still, he took care of us," meaning he had given her money for them to live off of, and then abandoned her to her own devices. She had been the one to do the cooking, cleaning and buying of groceries at only fourteen years old. So basically everything her mother had once done.

"I was always afraid he'd found out about Jordan's mutation though. Jason's father had known. _His_ father was a mutant, and he always warned me never to let anyone know. 'Protect Jason's secret,' he trained me, 'with your life, if need be.' I hid Jason's powers as best I could, but one day one of my father's friends came over," she recalled the tall, dangerous-eyed man who had looked her over as if she was a well-bred dog. The one who had ruined it for them both.

"He never brought his friends to the house. I don't know why he brought this one, but they got into a fight about something. I mean a fists and kicks fight," she reiterated when Charles opened his mouth to ask. His eyes went hard with knowing. "I heard the commotion and ran downstairs to see what was happening. That's when that man grabbed me. He put a gun to my head and threatened to kill me if my father didn't do what he wanted. I feel like it had something to do with money," Charles reached over to squeeze her hand, as if the thought of her in danger sent a thrill of fear through him. Cecilia continued, not allowing any of her emotions to take over.

It was over.

"My father refused. He told his friend to go ahead and shoot me. Jason heard me screaming and ran downstairs. He had to use his mutation to save me," her little brother had been fourteen at the time, she sixteen, when he had used his powers to fight a man for her life. "That night, we left. My father knew some people who used mutants as recreational fighters, like you would stage a rooster fight. He was going to sell Jason to them. So we ran away. We went to one of my friend's house, where her mother hid us until I was old enough to legally take care of Jason myself. We were lucky," Cecilia sighed softly.

"She was such a kind woman. I never would have made it to college without her," she finished the story softly.

"Sounds like Joseph was for me," Charles observed. "Sounds a lot like my parents actually," he thought for a moment. "And my life," That made her smile.

"That's why I felt comfortable telling you. We're two peas in a pod, Charles," She replied. He squeezed her hand.

"Yes," he agreed softly, knowing that there were no words that could change her past. "How do you know they're dead though?" He asked.

"Because apparently Jason's father left us a good deal of money in his will, only to be given when my mother died. It is how I could afford to go to Princeton. And I saw a newspaper article detailing a drug dealer war. My father was proclaimed dead in it," Cecilia closed her eyes, remembering the sick feeling of relief she had felt upon seeing that. It made her sick to think that she had been relieved at the death of her own parent but his death meant that Jason was safe.

"I see," Charles nodded. "That was how I found out as well. My father disappeared for a few months before I went to Oxford. Instead of him coming to the door it was someone from the bank. He told me my father had been part of a fatal accident and everything he had was mine now, by inheritance law. My mother married our Gardener two days later. They stayed until I went to Oxford. The last time I saw them was in London," he shrugged.

"It was the first time I had seen my mother sober since I was nine, as well," he scratched his chin thoughtfully. "She seemed relatively happier," he considered. Cecilia imagined so.

She sighed. The memories of her childhood, for the most part were unpleasant. But the past could not be changed. Besides they always led to the present, and she certainly didn't want to change the fact that she was sitting with Charles right now; past aside.

"That's good," she quipped. "Why did you ask me, though? Curiosity?" She teased, this being his answer most of the time when he started asking her questions. Charles chuckled and shook his head, running a thumb along the smooth skin of her hand. She smiled. A few weeks earlier, she would have blushed, but she was now used to the unconscious displays of affection he gave her, the silent gifts of care when they were alone. She found it endearing that his mind was always running… And yet he never seemed to realize when he did things like that.

"Not this time, no," he rumbled. "I was thinking of something that Eliza used to tell me all the time," he muttered. At the name of the brave dead woman, Cecilia sobered.

"What did she tell you?" she asked.

"Hmm. She knew my father back when we lived in London, you see. She always told me that I was just like him. I had his charm, his passion, his generosity, his… _Everything,"_ she could see why this would disturb him. Gradually, in pockets, Charles had shown her what kind of man his father had been.

She shivered again at the recollection.

"But the man I knew… Cecilia, the man he was beneath his charm was a cruel, vindictive, anguished soul. He was so cold, and well, I know I got _something_ from him. I'm controlling, yes, and probably more, but to be _just like him_ …" Charles voice cracked. Cecilia shook her head and tugged at his hand to get his attention.

She had it instantly. "You're not like him," she stated with confidence. "Charles, Eliza knew your father before he turned into a monster. Maybe, once, he was like _you_. But you are not him. Please, don't you see how the children beneath this roof love you? You spoil them all rotten so they should," she pulled her hand from his grip and put it on his shoulder.

"No matter what your father was, Charles, you are not his reflection. You are his better. _You're_ the better man," _you're the most amazing man on the face of this Earth. I wish you could see that,_ the thought must have floated idly out of her mind (or maybe she shoved it into his. No matter) because he blushed and reached up to gently grasp her hand where it was on his shoulder.

Like the gentleman he was, he brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed her palm. "Thank you, my lady," there was something slightly possessive in the way he said that. Cecilia snatched her hand away, giggling.

"You _are_ a scoundrel, though," she scolded. He seemed delighted by this phrase. He wiggled his brows playfully. She nudged him again. "You're silly," he laughed.

"Only with you," his face turned serious. "But in all sincerity-thank you Cecilia. For everything. I would never have gotten through these last months without you," she blinked, surprised.

"I've only done what you've asked of me, Charles," she pointed out.

He shook his head obstinately, gazing at her with such affection that her heart felt ready to stop. "You really don't realize; do you?" he asked in an incredulous whisper. "Cecilia, my whole life I lived in the reflection of my father. Every insult, every word, every hit… I kept them. I believed them, and didn't realize it until Boston," the bombing.

"So much _pain_ ," he whispered, shaking his head with haunted eyes. Cecilia grabbed his hand in both of hers. "It brought every feeling I had locked away to the surface. Every moment of despair, shame, guilt, rage. I was lost. I started to doubt myself and what I had begun," he shook his head.

"Then I met you," he said softly, his sapphire eyes aglow like lanterns. "And you believed in me. You trusted my word and had faith in what I was trying to do. More than Erik, more than Raven, more than _anyone_ … You proved to me that I wasn't a devil," he brushed her bang back from her forehead tenderly. "Because no one as good as you can believe in a devil as much as you believe in me. You are my salvation; and I…" His voice caught in his throat. Cecilia's heart skipped a beat as her brain told her-shouted at her-what he was trying to say.

 _He is not trying to say… He does not feel that way about me!_ One half of her heart screamed at the brain which informed it about this newfound data. "I…"

 _But you feel that way about him._ And whether it was how he felt or not, it was how _she_ felt, and he needed to know it. Just once.

"I love you," Charles stuttered to a stop at her brash announcement, gazing at her with wide eyes. Cecilia continued before she could lose her nerve. "I've loved you since the first time I heard you speak at Pittsburgh. I thought you were a sham at first; just someone sent by the government to pretend to be a telepath and lure mutants out of hiding to be rounded up. But then…. You spoke in our minds. I _felt_ your integrity and you spoke my heart, voiced my hopes and dreams aloud. You gave me hope. So I started stalking you," and why had she added that? What _idiot_ would add that during a declaration of love?

Charles smiled feebly. "Oh, so you weren't stalking my speeches?" his smile made her feel a bit more comfortable continuing.

"No, I was following _you_. Just… I wanted to help you. And Jason wanted to meet you so we followed you all across the East Coast until we met that day in Boston," a day of horror. A day of courage which she had never known herself to possess. A day of her wildest dreams- and nightmares- come true. Now, this day which seconded that day only by a minuscule amount was ending.

And she still had more to say. "But I understand if you say we can't… _Do_ anything, Charles," she hurried to assure him. "After all, I'm a human and you're… not. The world would never accept a bonding between us, and I won't sacrifice your reputation because…Umph," she was promptly interrupted by Charles grabbing her by both shoulders and fairly snatching her towards him.

Their lips met in a furious melding of desperate first breaths. Cecilia did not struggle. After a moment of bliss, they separated. She saw tears in Charles's eyes as he looked into her own with pure and unhidden elation. "You don't know how many nights I've dreamed you might say those words to me," Charles breathed against her lips, gently touching her forehead with his own. "Oh, and just so you know; the world can be damned. My reputation can go to hell, because," he kissed her again, gentler this time. "I love you too."

"Oh," she whispered blankly.

"It would mean a lot to me if you said something memorable," Charles teased softly.

Cecilia glanced down, a blush on her cheeks. And then she looked up, and a newfound fire burned deep in her heart. She would give him her heart, her soul, her mind and body. He had already claimed half of those things and proven himself a worthy holder. Cecilia felt her heart speed up. Suddenly, she giggled. "Erik is never going to let you live this down," was her memorable saying. Charles groaned at the reminder.

"Oh, I _know._ He's going to be insufferable for…Umph!"

He was interrupted by soft lips which crashed against his own. And as the moon which beheld the entire world sat in contemplative silence, the only significant light in a sky of leathery darkness, it was a witness to this unconventional kiss; starting a new chapter in her life that Cecilia was absolutely certain she would always remember, and never regret.

 ** _Later:_**

"What did you want to be when you grew up?" She asked him later, lightly running a finger up and down his chest. She felt slightly scandalous. She had never touched a man's bare chest before, and never imagined she would be doing it without being married first, but she loved Charles. A marriage ceremony would only be just that-a ceremony to consecrate it to everyone else.

As Charles had said earlier, the world could be damned.

She was resting snuggled against his side, head laid over his heart and beneath his chin. He had an arm around her shoulders, stroking her bare arm to the same rhythm in which she stroked his chest.

It was soporific. The candle on the nightstand next to his bed flickered, setting orange shadows leaping across their faces. Her violin sat on the other side of her. "When I grew up?" Charles inquired softly. "Well, for a long time I wanted to be a banker," she smiled.

"A _banker_?" She asked. He chuckled softly, the sound reverberating in her ears. She had noticed that his voice sounded like the violin at times, lifting ad falling like a gentle breeze. It was relaxing, musical.

"Yes," he admitted. "I assure you; I had no clue what a banker did. I wanted to be one because I thought it sounded dignified," she laughed. "Don't laugh. What was your dream?" He wondered.

"Mine? Well, I wanted to be a nurse," she replied. Charles nodded against the top of her head.

"I can envision that," he agreed. "You'll certainly have to play the act carting me around everywhere," she shook her head and lightly kissed the bottom of his chin.

"You're not a cripple, Charles," she informed him sternly.

"My legs beg to differ," he replied dryly. Then, timidly he added: "Cecilia. You know that it is unlikely…. _Highly_ unlikely… That I will ever be able to give you children?" she knew. Michael had already mentioned it to her, casually, one day.

 _"_ _I didn't know_ _ **that**_ _was paralyzed, too,"_ she had gasped.

 _"_ _It's not,"_ Micheal promised her. _"Or else I'm not sure how that man might be able to go to the bathroom. No, he is perfectly capable of having children but the organs which stimulate arousal in a man… They were damaged sometime in his childhood. It wasn't the bullet at all but something else. Probably too many kicks in the gut,"_ So, his father's beatings.

"We have enough as it is," she told him, not at all disappointed. After all, the students were their children, and they weren't growing up anytime soon.

"That doesn't… Bother you?" Charles asked. She looked up to see him gazing down at her anxiously, and with shame as well. She ran a hand through his glossy hair.

"As little as it bothers me that you're in a wheelchair. Charles, I fell in love with _you_ -your soul and heart and mind- and I love you completely. Nothing else matters to me but that you remain the same on the inside," she patted his chest, right where his heart was, and smiled.

"Promise," she added, using Kitty's cutest voice. A tear raced down Charles's cheek. She swiped it away gently. He leaned down and kissed her gently.

"I am undeserving of you," he muttered against her lips.

"Nonsense," she hummed, lying back down. She snuggled closer to him, near to sleep. His warmth was welcome. She closed her eyes, happier than she had ever imagined she could be. "You make me so happy," she whispered, her heart full of the emotion.

"Likewise," Charles whispered against her forehead, his voice echoing in her mind like a sweet lullaby. Cecilia sighed and closed her eyes. It was maybe seconds, minutes or hours when she felt Charles gently shake her again.

"Hmm?" She asked blinking awake. The candle had died, only the small glow of an ember remained. Charles was hugging her tightly, one hand placed warningly on her shoulder.

"Something's wrong," he whispered against her ear, seriously. She tensed and gently untangled herself from him, sitting up. She listened intently to the sounds of the house and then she heard it…

Voices coming from outside.

Unfamiliar voices. And a single word of hate. _"Freaks."_

She swung her legs over the side of the bed in a second. Terror flooded her veins, followed by adrenaline. "We have to get to the children," she snatched her robe as Charles pulled himself to the edge of the bed. She heard his telepathic call to Alex, Sean, Cassidy and Hank.

 _I need all of you to wake up!_ He ordered. _We have intruders._ He slipped into his wheelchair. She handed him his shirt and the two of them quickly entered the hallways. It was all quiet. Charles pressed two fingers to his forehead.

"Charles," that was Alex, coming up behind them, Cassidy on his heels. "What's wrong? Who's here?" Hank swung in from over the staircase. Sean walked over, groaning sleepily.

"People with bad intentions," Charles's sharp voice brought him up short.

"Where're the kids?" Sean demanded immediately.

"How many?" Cassidy fired off. Charles shook his head.

"More than fifty," Cecilia's blood ran cold. This had been planned. An ambush. But how had they found the mansion? "They're surrounding all the exits. Cassidy, Cecilia, go wake the children and take them down to the secret passageway. Hank, cover them. Alex, Sean, follow me, we have to keep them at…"

A crash resounded from downstairs, followed by the thumping of feet into the house and loud voices. "Come on out, _Professor_!"

Cecilia grabbed Charles's shoulders, suddenly terrified. He pushed her away, towards Cassidy. "Go! Get the children! We'll keep them downstairs!" Charles ordered quickly. Cecilia squeezed his shoulders once. _Please be careful_. She grabbed Cassidy's hand, pulling her towards the children's rooms. Hank followed close on their heels.

"Banshee, watch my back!" Alex ordered him as they raced downstairs. Sean gave a quick grunt of agreement and screamed at the nearest walking thing. The man cried out as he was flung against the wall. Alex let out a laser blast that eradicated three more. The elevator opened and Charles wheeled out, his face set into stone and his eyes aflame. Two guys on his left froze. Sean threw them against a wall with a shriek.

"Havoc, look out!" The man who had been aiming a gun at Alex's head suddenly froze, his face set into an expression of surprise. Havoc disposed of him with a mild blast as Charles joined them in front of the staircase. Sean didn't have to ask to know he had jammed the elevator.

"Who are these guys?" Sean gasped as he ducked beneath a punch. The attackers, shrouded in the shadow of night, were coming at them from all directions, flooding into the doorways like ants. More than fifty, Charles said.

"They're Anti-Mutant society members," Charles gasped, as he raised a hand and three guys on Alex's left suddenly collapsed into a deep sleep.

"How did they find us?" Alex yelled. Chares glanced at them both and for one of the first times; Sean saw fear in his eyes.

"I don't know." A barrage of bullet suddenly fired at them. Sean jumped in front of Alex and the professor without thinking. He opened his mouth and let out a hoarse scream. He did not have to see to know that the sonic fried the bullets. They dropped to the ground, useless. Alex let out a wide laser slash, completely decimating the open space. The carpet caught aflame and the fire jumped up like goblins in the night, devouring several of the men. They screamed, flailing.

"Look out!" Sean grabbed the Prof's wheelchair and dragged it off the carpet as the fire spread rapidly. Alex dived to the other side of the staircase, cringing.

"Oops!" he called. "Sorry!"

"Your aim has gotten better Havoc!" Charles replied, trying to be positive again. Sean rolled his eyes and ducked beneath the punch. Suddenly, Sean heard a noise like water being sprayed out of a hose. He looked up to see ice crawling down the staircase, inching down unto the carpet to capture the flames in sizzling decimation.

Hank burst from the staircase, eyes roving the scene. "Behind you!" Cassidy hacked a flaming booger unto one of the guys trying to shoot Hank. He smashed the skull of another, roaring.

" _Neanderthal,"_ he growled.

Jean screamed on the side as one of the attackers reached through the staircase railings and grabbed a fistful of her hair. Rogue ripped off her glove and slammed a hand to his forehead. He slumped to the ground with a groan. "I told you your power was important, Rogue!" Bobby cried, exhilarated.

Rogue smiled victoriously. "Why are you going _this_ way?" Alex hissed as Hank barreled past, followed by the children.

"Because the way out is _down_ and the elevator was jammed!" Hank hissed back. Sean counted the children as they raced past him towards the kitchen. Wait, where was Kitty?

"Don't go in there!" Charles suddenly cried out to Hank. "There's…" there was more men racing in through the back, probably having knocked down the back door and coming in through the kitchen.

Hank screeched to a halt, diving towards the intruders with a feral bellow of fury. Cecilia grabbed Jean and Scott before they could go after him. Sean felt anger boil inside of him, along with fear. They were surrounded.

"Well, then, we're going _THIS WAY_!" he decided, aiming his defiant scream at the doorway, blasting quite a few men out of the way. Alex and Cassidy jumped to his side, using their own blasts to slowly force a path out of the door. The Professor stayed back, freezing anyone who so much as _looked_ at the kids.

Cecilia had somehow gotten her hands on a crowbar and held it in her hands like a bludgeon, she and Hank fighting the men who had come in through the back door. A strike of sudden lightning ousted the last guy in the doorway. Sean whooped as he charged outside.

"Nice going, Ororo!" The congratulations were halted when Cassidy flittered into the sky to avoid being shot down by a sudden barrage of bullets aimed at them. Sean cried out in frustration. There were another twenty guys out front!

Their leader stood there with his hands folded behind his back patiently, surrounded by two gunmen with _machine guns_. He gazed at them with pure hatred, his face obscured by the night and the helmet on his head. an all-too familiar helmet, which had mysteriously gone missing after the Boston thing…Sean gasped. Charles paled.

Shaw's helmet.

"Fire!" more bullets came flying at them. Sean stood in front of the doorway, screaming. Two of the shooters suddenly groaned, collapsing on the ground in sleeping heap. Charles pushed his way to the front.

 _We're going to need to work together,_ his voice directed in their minds, quickly. _Sean, Warren, Cassidy, take to the sky and handle them from there. Ororo, whip up a storm. Jean, I need you to keep an eye on everyone. Bobby, freeze them. Marie, touch them all. Hank, go wild. Alex, Scott, keep the ones behind us busy. Cecilia, we're going for the leader. Please, everyone be careful…And where is Kitty?_

"Surrender!" The leader shouted as more men came from all sides. Sean backed up a bit, and to kina deep breath. These guys would regret messing with _his_ family. "Or die!" That didn't sound like a nice choice.

"Go!" Charles commanded. Everyone dived to their places. Sean screamed his way to the air, followed by Warren and Cassidy. He saw Cassidy dip and drop like a bird of prey, spitting fireballs with a feral hiss as she went. Warren did likewise, freefalling into people. He lifted men up, snatched guns and whacked them upside the head. He looked like he was having a ball. He saw Scott and Alex vanish behind the group. Scott whipped off his glasses and opened his eyes. The front door was soon trashed.

Ororo's eyes glowed white as she raised her arms. Sean swerved out of the way as lightning rained down. Rogue whisked off her other glove and ducked beneath assailing fists and feet, smacking and hitting anyone who approached Jean, who had her eyes closed and fingers poised to her forehead.

Bobby was literally creating bridges of ice that he was _skating_ on, freezing everyone who came within distance. Hank ran ahead of Cecilia and Charles, using all four feet as he beat everyone in his way down. Cecilia wheeled the professor forward behind him, crowbar held securely in Charles lap. He had his eyes closed. Everyone who didn't get a beat down from Beast were put to sleep by Charles.

"This is why you don't mess with mutants!" Sean cried as he dipped lower to the ground, obliterating eardrums as he went. _Sean, fly up!_ He heard Jean cry in his mind. Sean did as she said, and saw four bullets suddenly whiz past the place he had been earlier.

 _Thanks a ton, Jean!_

Hank, The Professor and Cecilia were almost to the leader now. Sean felt victory expand in his chest. Looked like they were set to win this round!

* * *

Kitty was scared.

she was cowering in her pink room when she heard the voices outside her window. She had just about wake Professor when Cassidy flung open her door and urged her to come along. Kitty had followed for a moment but when she heard people screaming downstairs and fire. She had run blindly back to her room. She sat on the bed, crying.

What was going on? Where was fessor? Who was in the house and…?

 _Kitty!_ She jumped with a scream and scrambled beneath her covers as she heard The professor in her mind. Upon realizing it was him, she let out a sob of relief and hugged her pink puppy close to her chest

 _Fessor!_ she cried back _. What's goin on!? I'm scared, fessor!_

 _Kitty, where are you?_

 _In my room._

 _Are you safe? Are you hurt?_ She didn't answer, just shivered when she heard Seanie screaming his loud scream. She covered her ears.

 _Kitty. Listen to me. I need you to be brave, alright? I need you to be brave for me, Kitty. Can you do that?_ She nodded, sniffling. _Good girl. Now go to my room and pick up the phone. You remember Moira's number, don't you?_ She did. He had made her say it every time she wanted a glass of chocolate milk. Which was a lot. _Call her number and tell her that we need the others to come home right now. Can you do that?_

Kitty was already running out.


	33. Chapter 33

Charles could not have been prouder of his students.

As Cecilia ran him forward after Hank, he surveyed the fight; and felt tears in his eyes at how well they were all doing, how competently they worked as one, how brave they were…He loved them more than life itself.

Which was why whoever had come here, wanting to take _his_ children, was going to pay. And he was taking that helmet afterward and sending it to the bottom of the sea. Forever. No matter what Erik had to say about it.

They were only a few feet away now. Hank leapt for the face of one of the men with the machine gun, wrenching it from his hands. Cecilia followed a half second behind, beating the other with her crowbar. Charles didn't have time to fear for their lives. He wheeled himself towards the defenseless leader.

"Call off your troops," he ordered in a growl. While he had that helmet on, there was little Charles could do with his telepathy but there was much he could do to prove his point. Half the battle was fought in the mind.

"You've been defeated," he gestured to the dwindling troops. The unconscious and blessing bodies on the ground, overpowered by his family. By children. His pride for them gave him confidence. He turned back. "Soon, you'll lose anyway. Take them and go now, while you still can," he considered this a rather merciful offer. He knew what another might do in his stead, but the leader only sneered at him with contempt.

"I will never surrender, _freak,"_ a flash of lightning illuminated his face, showing mocking features twisted in a snarl of insanity. Charles's breath halted in his lungs. he could have sworn he recognized.. Matter of fact, he recognized that voice. It was just like his own. From beneath the helmet, he saw a twisted smile distort petite lips. "An Xavier," the leader continued in a deadly growl. "Never surrenders." Charles gasped aloud as another lightning flash spelled out one of his greatest nightmares.

 _No._

Standing in front of him was his very much alive- very much demented- father.

* * *

Kitty skidded into Charles room as the house shook with another explosion. Tears raced down her face as she ducked inside, tripping over Celia's violin, which was sitting abandoned on the floor.

She stumbled over to his dresser, and desperately jumped for the telephone chord. It waved above her, tantalizing, a few inches beyond her reach.

 _Kitty!_ Fessor called, sounding scared. _Did you call Moira!?_

Tears built in her eyes, and Kitty just wanted to go back to her room and cry. _I can't reach it!_ She desperately stretched on her tippy toes, waving her hand frantically. The chord swayed mockingly. She screamed in frustration. Fessor needed her to call Moira for help!

 _There's a stool in the closet. Hurry Kitty!_ She raced towards the closet.

* * *

"Father," he gasped, stunned.

His father let out a bitter laugh. "Demon," he greeted in reply. Charles was hyperventilating, fear rushing in to replace the blood in his veins.

"How are you alive?"

"I never died." _What?_ Charles shook his head to dispel the spell his own terror had set on him. He had to protect his family. He couldn't worry about the details of his father's miraculous reappearance now.

"Your troops are still losing. Get off my property," for this was his property now. It had been for years and he did not intend for his father to ruin his home when things were just starting to go well. The other man snorted and crossed his arms. Why was he in a suit?

"Don't be arrogant," he counseled. "After all, you know what they say," he shrugged. "Pride comes before _a fall,"_ those words made Charles's heart skip a beat, but he stopped breathing altogether when his father raised a hand ad bellowed, at the top of his lungs:

"Kill them all!" Suddenly, the ones that Charles had _sworn_ he put to sleep suddenly popped awake like marionettes, and the ones still standing readjusted some setting on their pistols.

He heard Jean scream first. "No!" he cried as her telepathic signature vanished. She toppled to the ground, unconscious as the dart sticking out of her neck released its debilitating poison into her bloodstream.

A horrifying revelation occurred to him. _They were toying with us. They did all this to lure us outside._ Out in the open, where they were vulnerable. And it had worked.

"Charles, look out!" Hank was suddenly there, in a devastating reenactment of what Charles had once done for Erik, throwing his own body in front of Charles's. He saw the dart go into Hank's neck. With a groan his friend sunk to the ground, helpless.

"No, Hank!" He screamed. He swiveled around to his father. "What have you done?" he whispered, horrified.

His father shrugged. "What I have always done: avenge my son. Watch, then monster, and know that they fall because of you," Charles cried out in rage and pain as he felt the others fall, succumbing to the poisonous darts. Sean, Scott, Alex, Cassidy, Rogue, Ororo, Bobby, Warren… Until only he and Cecilia were left, surrounded by men who pointed guns at their heads.

 _Kitty,_ his last chance. _Did you get it?_

Her teary voice was victorious. _I got it Fessor. I'm calling Moira now!_

 _Good work, Kitty. I'm proud of you,_ his voice trembled even in mind-speak but he didn't care. He knew, far beyond a doubt, that whenever Erik and the others arrived…

It would already be too late.

* * *

"Then I said, but I don't have any chicken eggs!" Moira giggled slightly at the horrible joke. Michael was a very intelligent man, but he was not very good at jokes. Or, actually, he was horrible at humor period. it was almost funny enough to make up for his lack.

She sighed with content and once again looked down at the mutant below. Emma and Erik were dancing again, the two love-birds oblivious to the crowd that had begun to form around them. Azazel and Logan were flirting with some Italians. Jason was watching Raven imitate a Governor for an amused crowd and Riptide was _still_ stealing sweets.

Everything was normal then. Suddenly, in her pocket, her phone rang. It was one of the first prototypes of its kind, given to her by a friend in the CIA. It was called a _cell phone_. A smaller version of what they already had. Moira despised it, but she had agreed to keep it at Charles's insistence.

"What is it?" Michael asked. Moira shrugged and pushed the answer button before pressing the device awkwardly to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Moira!" Kitty's tearful and panicked voice almost screamed. Moira jumped, startled by the desperation in her voice.

"Kitty?" She asked, surprised. "What is it? What's wrong?"S he asked.

"Bad men!" Kitty sobbed. "Bad people are here, Moira! They broke the door!" The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Moira gripped the railing hard.

"What?"

"They're in the house! Fessor says you have to come home _now_! We need help!" Kitty yelled. Moira gripped Michael's arm.

"Get the others," she ordered huskily, heart skipping a beat. "And prepare the BlackBird. We have to go."

"Why? What's…?"

"Michael, the mansion is under attack. Get the others _now_!" He paled. Without another word, the doctor swiveled on his heel and thundered down the steps towards the X-Men, running at full tilt. She saw him run up to Erik and Emma first, pointing frantically up at Moira.

"Kitty?" Moira breathed trying to stay calm. "Kitty, listen to me. Where are you right now?" She asked.

"In Fessor's room," that explained how she had gotten the phone. There were only two in the house. One upstairs and one down. "He told me to come call you," and Charles would only call if it was a dire emergency.

"Where is the Professor?" she asked.

"He went to fight the bad people but… Ah!... Moira, hurry up!" Kitty sobbed in a panic. The others had all gathered at the bottom of the stairs. Emma looked up at Moira with a crease in her brow. Moira raced down the stairs.

"What is it?" Erik demanded when she had reached them.

"It's Kitty on the phone. She's terrified. She says Charles told her to call me and tell me that they need help. There are people in the house, dangerous," she summed up. Erik's face went stony. Raven gasped.

"Azazel…"

"I'm on it," He vanished.

"To the BlackBird, everyone," Erik ordered.

"What about the guests?" Raven asked, glancing at the ballroom full of people who would all demand to know where the prize winners were going if they suddenly saw them leave.

"I've got them handled," Emma replied, placing a finger against her forehead.

"Good. X-Men," Erik's eyes burned with urgency. "Go!"

* * *

There were too many for Charles to freeze them all at once and in his current state, he could not run. He was stuck there. Over forty men surrounded them, armed. Charles glanced back and forth as they pressed in closer, obscuring his vision. Where was Cecilia?

"Let go of me!" Cecilia was yelling, enraged as she was grabbed by two soldiers and her arms pinned behind her back. Charles had to swallow his fury. He glanced at the children lying on the ground, unmoving. His insides curdled with horror.

His father must have sensed his anguish. "Don't worry, demon," he said softly, as if comforting a child. "They'll die within the hour. And _you_ will watch," Charles paled.

"Why are you doing this?" he gasped. Why didn't his father just kill them all, then? Why was he torturing him when he could just put a bullet in his head? The monster did not answer. Instead, he turned towards the two men who had pulled Cecilia forward to stand at his side. Charles's heart clenched as he saw his father study the woman he loved with cold eyes.

"So," he said, calmly. "You're the double-crossing _harlot_ who sided with the demons," he said as if finally making his acquaintance with a rather famous criminal. Upon hearing the insult, Charles's mind lashed out. Several men cried out and fell; consumed by the burning fire of his rage. His father remained unaffected. Cecilia tipped her chin proudly, gray eyes flashing.

"On the contrary," she replied. Her voice was shaking, but strong. A surge of admiration raced through him. "I believe that's _you_ , sir," his father's eyes widened, and with no hesitation, Charles saw his hand whip upwards and fly across her face with a sharp smack. She cried out.

"NO!" Charles cried desperately, very much wanting to run forward, to help. Not for the first time he cursed his legs. "Leave her alone!" His father glanced back at him. Charles hastened to distract him from Cecilia.

"An antidote," he gasped out, thinking of the children. "You have one," It was not a question. His father's eyes narrowed as he turned to face him. He crossed his arms like a military dictator.

"What makes you think that?" he asked.

Charles's mind raced. "What if one of your men accidentally got hit? You'd need an antidote or none of these men would have come with you," he had read that in the thoughts of the uncovered heads. None of them were particularly loyal to his father, and certainly did not trust him. They were only here to destroy mutants.

"What if it only works on humans?" A fallacy. Mutants were humans, just with a changed DNA.

"If it works on you, it'll work on us."

"You've become smart there, child," Charles bristled at the taunt, but sped on.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"The same thing I've always wanted," his father glanced at Cecilia, struggling in the arms of his men. "To avenge you possessing my son!"

He saw several men glare. "We're _here_ ," a defiant one corrected. "To capture mutants for experimentation," he nudged Hank with his toe. "That poison won't kill them, not immediately anyway. It'll make them _docile_ until we can get you all into cages," A fate just as bad as death. Charles's mind gears turned with an idea. His gut clenched in fear but his heart had already made it's decision. He glanced at Cecilia, touched the minds of his children.

 _I'm sorry._

"Take me," he said at once. His father looked honestly shocked.

"What?"

"Take me," Charles repeated. He nodded towards Cecilia. "Let her go. Let them all go, and give me the antidote and I will go with you willingly," he said.

"Charles, no!" Cecilia screamed.

"I don't think you quite understand. You don't have a choice," his father told him logically. Charles clenched his teeth.

"I don't think you quite _understand_ ," he growled. "I can kill _every single one_ of your men with a squeeze of my mind," he never had before, but he knew he could. He could control people, so he could make them kill one another. As a demonstration, he latched onto the mind of the one holding Cecilia.

He ignored the screams that poured of the fighter's mouth as Charles invaded his mind and _squeezed_. He dropped to his knees, holding his head as he clawed at his hair, his eyes, his face. "Charles!" Cecilia gasped. _You're not a killer_! Was the rest of her thought. He couldn't bear to look at her.

His father was watching Charles's handiwork with curiosity. The other men shied away in terror and shock. "Well," his father said with a nod. Charles released his hold and the man fell, twitching and moaning, to the ground. "I see your point," he gave Charles an assessing look. "You can't do it to them all at once," He challenged.

Charles stared back, steadily. "Try me," he would do whatever it took to save his family. _Kitty, did you call Moira?_

 _They're on their way, fessor!_ She sounded as relieved as he felt.

"If we do what you want, you'll come with us willingly? You won't fight?" he could already feel how the others liked this plan. They didn't want to end up like their friend twitching on the ground.

"You have my word," Cecilia let out a sob. Charles did not look at her, could not stand it if he saw fear of him in her eyes. It would tear him apart.

"Boss…" One of his men muttered, looking to Charles's father. "He is one of the only three telepaths on earth. We could _use_ him…" he shivered at the tone of voice. Use him for what?

It didn't matter. He had to save the children. He couldn't just sit here and let them die. "Very well," he almost sagged with relief when his father agreed. "We accept those terms, mutant. But know this: if I so much as hear a peep of protest, then I will come back," an arm reached out and yanked Cecilia's head back by her gorgeous hair. "And I will cut her throat first," Charles nodded. His heart was in his own throat.

Seeing the fear in his eyes, his father sneered and pushed Cecilia away. She tumbled to the ground. Boredily, his father tugged a small glass tube of purple liquid from his pocket and tossed it at her. "Here's the antidote," he told her emotionlessly.

She spat at his feet. She turned to Charles and he heard her pleading voice yell: "Charles, don't do this!" He finally looked at her. There were tears running down her face. A purplish bruise had begun to grow on her perfect skin. He gulped down the lump in his throat. He had done this to her.

 _Kitty,_ he called first, never losing eye contact with her even as the men jostled forward. He felt his wheelchair give a start. He allowed himself to be pushed, silently.

 _Yes, fessor?_

 _You've been so brave and helpful tonight. I'm very proud of you._

 _Are the bad people gone?_ He swallowed thickly, preparing himself never to see them again.

 _They will be. Stay in that room and wait for Moira or the others to come get you, okay? Everything will be alright, my dear. I love you, you know that don't you? I love you all very much._ He was fairly shoving the emotion at her. He felt confusion.

A silence. Then: _Fessor?_

 _Everything will be alright, Kitty,_ he repeated, wanting this to be the last thing she heard from him. _Everything will be alright, I promise._

He rolled past Cecilia. His heart wrenched at the thought of never touching her again, never speaking to her or kissing her. She reached out, trying to stumble up. "Charles?" He gently caught hold of her psyche, pushing her towards sleep. He didn't want her to watch as they…She toppled over.

 _I'm sorry,_ he sent painfully. _Help is coming. The children need that antidote, will need you. Be brave, Cecilia, and thank you for everything. I love you. More than anything._ He closed his eyes as she relaxed into sleep, her mind a thrashing ocean of anguish.

A shuddering breath escaped as he gazed up at the indifferent stars through a haze of tears. He would not get to say goodbye to Raven, attend Erik's wedding, have Christmas with his family… His heart burned with despair. He hung his head and allowed the tears to dribble down his face. Shaw had not been able to do it, humans had not been able to do it, but he was finally defeated. It had all been for naught.

The only sound Charles made was that of pain when he was dumped out of his wheelchair a few feet into the thick forest around the mansion. He clenched his teeth as rough hands grabbed his arms and began to drag him towards the edge of the forest, where a plane's engines whirred.

He made not a sound when they finally knocked him out, succumbing to his fate. He no longer cared what they did to him. He had already accepted his fate, like the war prisoner that he was.


	34. Chapter 34

The journey from France to New York was time-consuming. Even with the Black Bird going at full speed, it still took entirely too long. It felt like an eternity to Raven. Every second, they stayed on the phone with Kitty, listening to her panicked breathing in the dark of the house, their imaginations running wild as they anticipated the horror that would await them there.

Kitty said that the bad men had shot everyone. That they weren't moving.

Emma had been trying to telepathically get in touch with anyone since they had gotten on the BlackBird, but she said she couldn't feel _anyone_ , even Charles. Erik was sitting rigid in his seat, eyes staring out into the darkness of night. He was strung as tight a bowstring.

They remained silent the entire ride. Raven held Moira's phone in her hand, listening. Every few minutes, she would ask "Kitty, are you still there?" And Kitty would answer.

"Yes."

"Where's Professor?"

"Gone." and she would say no more than that. So Raven, too, stared outside and prayed more fervently than she ever had that a miracle might happen. Would she come home only to see her brother's broken, bleeding body lying next to Hank's? Had she lost everyone?

In the beginning, they had wracked their minds for how the intruders could have possibly found the mansion. Then, with a snarl of utter fury, Moira had spun around and started patting Azazel down.

 _"_ _What are you doing?"_ He had demanded just as she plucked something from his suit jacket. She held it up for them to see.

 _"_ _A tracker!"_ She had hissed, slamming it into the floor, where she then ground it to bits with her shoe.

 _"_ _Then they planned this,"_ Erik had breathed anxiously. _"They were at Versailles. They knew what we were going to do_ ," spies. How long had they followed them? What information had they gathered from some thoughtless comment she had made? What other weakness did they know about?

When they finally did arrive, the sun was just coming over the hills, illuminating the front yard with orange light, and the bodies lying there on the ground. The mansion was silent. The Blackbird had not yet landed when Erik fired himself out of his chair and out of the door.

Moira and Emma followed at a close second. Raven landed on the ground hard enough to bruise herself. She looked up and gasped. "A battle was fought here," Erik said softly, surveying the broken front doors and the scorched ground. A few of the intruders still lay on the ground, unconscious and moaning. Raven ignored them as she noticed a blue-furred body.

"Hank!" She ran to him, falling to her knees and turning him over. Her fingers went to his neck, and she could not describe the relief she felt when a stuttering heartbeat met her fingers. Azazel flashed away, probably to find Kitty.

"They're all alive. I feel brain waves," Emma reported as they all knelt next to the others. Logan tenderly stroked Rogue's hair. When he touched her, nothing happened. "But something is wrong," she whispered, opening eyes full of anger and pain.

"They've been poisoned," Michael called out from where he had knelt next to Alex. He touched his forehead, gently. "Something deadly, and slow. It's killing them," Raven's heart skipped a beat. She looked up and saw terror in Erik's eyes. Not only because of the poison, but another question that flit through their heads at the same time.

 _Where's Charles?_

Suddenly Azazel ran towards them, a sobbing Kitty held in his arms. "She is unharmed," he told them as Raven jumped to her feet and ran over. Kitty was clinging to Azazel's neck, trembling. Raven gently touched her back.

"Kitty? Kitty, it's me. Raven. Are you alright?" Kitty nodded without looking up from Azazel's neck.

"Kitty," Erik came up behind her. "What happened?" He demanded harshly. Kitty just whimpered and hugged Azazel closer. Fear and sadness rolled off her in waves. Azazel choked.

"Guys! Over here!" Jason suddenly yelled; waving them over to where he was sitting on the ground with Cecilia cradled in his arms. Raven, Michael, Erik and Emma crowded around as Cecilia moaned. Her hand was clasped around something tightly as she wiggled in a nightmare; as if trapped by something.

"Cecilia," Jason whispered urgently. Raven, Michael and Erik knelt at his side. There were tears in Jason's eyes. He shook her gently. "Come on, sis. Tell me you're okay. Please be okay," he begged. As if his voice revived her, Cecilia suddenly gasped and sat up quickly. Raven fell back on her haunches trying not to get hit in the head.

"Charles!" Cecilia screamed in a voice that made Raven's heart clench.

"Wow, it's okay, sis! It's me," Jason told her, rubbing her arms. Cecilia gasped, twisting around to stare at them with wide, uncomprehending eyes. "You're safe now," Jason continued soothingly.

"Cecilia," that was Erik, not waiting for her to calm down. "What happened here?" She blinked at him dizzily.

"Erik…" she muttered. Then, catching sight of Michael; shoved something into his hands violently. It was a purple glass bottle. "It is the antidote for the poison," she told him quickly. "Give it to the children. They have to have it soon or they'll die," she told him. Michael nodded and patted her hand.

"Give her a minute," he cautioned Erik before jumping to his feet to administer the cure.

"Hey," Jason whispered, kissing her forehead as Cecilia continued trying to get her bearings. She pressed a hand to her temple. "It's alright. I've got you," he promised. "Are you okay?" he gently touched the bruise on her face. "How did you get that?" He asked.

"He hit me," Cecilia answered in a bewildered mumble.

"Who did?" Emma asked gently.

"The man… The leader with the helmet… He came and we tried to fight but… It was dark and I couldn't… Charles…"she babbled, quite obviously in shock. Erik placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Cecilia," he said again, quieter this time. "Please. Calm down and start at the beginning. What happened here?" He asked again. Cecilia stared at him with wide eyes for a long moment before gulping audibly. She nodded, inhaling a deep breath.

"It was about two hours after we got home," she began in a more collected voice. "We were in bed," Raven cocked an eyebrow. It did not have to be specified who she had been in bed with. She and Jason exchanged looks.

 _About time._

"When Charles woke me up. He said something was wrong," Cecilia shivered. "There were voices outside the window. We had just woken up Alex, Sean, Hank and Cassidy when they broke through the front door. More than fifty people. Cassidy, Hank and I tried to get the children out while Charles, Alex and Sean held them back but… There were too many. We were forced into the front yard," she gestured to the destruction wrought on the house and the front yard.

"They did so well, the children," she whispered, as tears flooded down her face. "They fought so bravely and we were winning. They were _winning_ , Erik!" she looked up at him with all the pride of a mother. He smiled sadly and nodded.

"Then what?" he asked. Cecilia rubbed her temples, trying to remember.

"Charles… Charles, Hank and I went for the leader. He was standing back, watching. He had two guards," she let out a bitter laugh. "He was wearing Shaw's helmet," of course he had been. Erik growled deep in his throat.

"I hit one of the guards with my crowbar. Hank had the other one. Charles told him to surrender, that it was over but…Suddenly all those… _Monsters_ we had knocked down got back up. They fired darts at the children, starting with Jean. We tried to stop them, but there was nothing we could do but watch as they all fell, one by one," she stopped for a moment. Then squared her shoulders, wiping at the tears on her face angrily.

"Two men grabbed me, and the others surrounded Charles. The leader told me I was a treacherous harlot who had sided with mutants," one side of her mouth quirked into a smile. "I told him that I thought he was the traitor. So he hit me," Jason groaned.

"What is it with you and attacking people who can kill you?" he lamented.

"He…The Leader said that the children would die within the hour. He was going to kill me, and make Charles watch," her brows furrowed. "He had something against him…" Raven frowned. Charles had _enemies?_

"Charles…" she let out another sob. "Charles said he could kill them all with a thought. He almost _killed_ one of them…" she sounded appropriately horrified. Raven tried to mix the image of her compassionate, merciful brother with the desperate killer that Cecilia described. It was hard.

"Charles offered a deal…" Cecilia went on, slowly this time. She closed her eyes, struggling to remember. Raven gasped.

"What deal?" Erik demanded.

"He… he…" Suddenly, Cecilia's eyes snapped open and she hastened to her feet. "He said that if the leader gave me the antidote and left us alone, he would go with them willingly. He wouldn't fight," she stared at the forest, face draining of color. Raven did not need the rest of the story to realize what had happened. Cecilia had had the antidote after all, and it would be just like Charles to knock her out before…

"They took him that way!" She cried, pointing.

Erik surged to his feet. "Raven, Emma, with me!" He snapped, already running in the direction Cecilia had pointed.

"I'm coming too!" Cecilia cried. No one argued with her. The four of them took off into the woods, following Erik blindly through the still darkened patch of forest.

Raven ducked and dived between tree branches and over brushes, surprised when she saw Cecilia keeping up with them, her own legs stretched to almost _Splitz_ like proportions as she rocketed after Emma.

After almost a minute of running, it occurred to Raven that they were merely heading in one direction. What if they had turned? She was about to suggest this to Erik when suddenly they came it the end of the small forest. Erik skidded to a halt, gasping. Raven bumped into his back. Cecilia and Emma stopped on either side, gasping.

" _What?"_ Raven growled into Erik's shirt, pushing herself away. "What is it?" she looked over Erik's shoulder and gasped aloud. Lying on its side on the edge of the forest where the premises turned into a cliff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean was Charles's lonely wheelchair. The indents of giant wheels were still in the ground. An airplane.

With a scream of feral rage, Erik slammed a fist against the nearest tree. Cecilia slowly walked over to Charles's wheelchair, as if in a trance, and fell beside it. Her shoulders shook with sobs. Emma knelt beside her, hugging her close. Raven's heart fell, and she crumpled to her knees. Her brother had been kidnapped, and could be anywhere in the world right now, having _anything_ done to him.

He was gone.

* * *

Slowly, one by one, they trickled back to the house. Emma and Cecilia left first, Emma fairly carrying Cecilia back. Raven and Erik stayed, eyes glued to the toppled wheelchair.

"We'll get him back, Raven," Erik said, turning to her. His eyes were hard with determination. "I promise." she could only nod. They _had_ to get him back.

When they returned to the house an hour later, the children had been given the antidote and Michael and Moira had ushered them into the family room. They all lay or sat on the couches, eyes glassy with memories of the night before. They reminded Raven of the refugees she had rescued in desolate parts of the world, their eyes empty and hearts broken.

She sat next to Hank. He had leaned forward, head in his hands. He did not look up when she entered. "Did you find him?" Raven assumed that someone had already told them what happened to Charles.

She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. "No," she rubbed his shoulder. "How are you feeling?" he looked up then; and placed his chin in his hands.

"Like I should have fought harder," he replied glumly.

"It wasn't your fault, Hank," it was hers. She should have come home with them, she should have come faster, she should have known… Then maybe Charles would still be there. She gently leaned against his shoulder as sadness and concern ripped through her.

 _Charlie, where are you?_

Erik walked in last. Moira hurried to his side and they exchanged urgent whispers. Moira nodded and walked over to where Michael was leaning against the wall with arms crossed, eyes cast downwards. She slipped a hand into his comfortingly. He squeezed her hand back.

Erik walked to the front of the room where only a few months earlier, he and Charles had stood side by side, and told them about the bet that they had made to save their family… And change the world.

The world had changed. And Erik stood alone.

"Is everyone alright?" he asked, firstly.

"What do you think?" Sean snapped from where he sat on the couch, gently stroking Bobby's hair. The young boy had his head in Sean's lap, staring straight ahead with sleepless eyes. "Those monsters come in here, tear up our home, _drug_ us and take Charles. Why aren't you _not alright_ , Erik?" he demanded angrily. Bobby whimpered and Sean deflated, sighing.

"Where did they take him?" Jean asked from where she sat in between Emma and Cecilia. She had her eyes closed, rubbing her temples as if in pain.

"We don't know," Raven said apologetically.

"But we're going to get him back," Erik piped up with determination. His fists clenched. "They won't get away with this," he growled. There was murder in his eyes.

Raven shivered. "How?" Alejandro snorted. "With what money?" That was a good point. So far everything they had gotten had been through Charles's bank account. No one could very well start a search without the money which only he had access too…

 _Or can we?_ She glanced at Cecilia.

Before Raven could open her mouth, though, Kitty jumped out of Cassidy's lap and rushed out of the room. She returned half a second later, carrying a jar full of dollars and coins. She shoved it at Erik with wide eyes full of hope.

"What's this?" Erik asked, surprised. Raven stared into the jar. There was at least two hundred dollars in there. Where had Kitty gotten all that money?

"It's the money for the puppy," Kitty explained, sniffling. She wiped a hand across her face. "Fessor told me to hold it until Christmas, and we would go get the puppy then," she sniffled and asked: "Can we use it to buy back Fessor?" Raven could not help but let out a small whimper of pain.

If only it were that easy.

Erik's expression was one of devastation. "What…?" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "What about the puppy?" he asked her helplessly. Kitty shook her head and hugged herself as if cold.

"I don't want it anymore," she told him. "I want Fessor to come home," a pain-filled silence descended. Kitty was staring up at Erik, waiting for an answer. Slowly, the metal bender set down the jar and knelt so that they were eye-level. He put a hand on Kitty's shoulder.

"The Professor would be so proud of you," he told her, merely. Kitty seemed to understand that this was the only promise he could give. She ducked her head and ran back to Cassidy with a cry of remorse. She buried her head in her lap as Cassidy picked her up and gently rocked her, tears running down her own face.

"Erik," Alex's voice cracked. "What are we going to _do_?" Now they were all staring at him for direction, for hope. A job that was usually Charles's title and claim, but Erik was the last leader they had left, the one who had been with them since the beginning.

So they begged him for answers that he didn't have.

He stared back at them, eyes filled with anguish. "I…" he gulped. "I don't know," it felt like a blow to the gut to hear him so unsure, so lost. As if Charles had taken all his confidence when he was kidnapped.

"We can still get into Charles's bank accounts," Raven offered, hoping to help.

"How?" Cecilia asked. Raven gave her a startled look. Had Charles not told her? Had he not explained just what he was giving to her?

"With the key," she replied. "Didn't Charles tell you? There are two keys to access all his bank accounts. One verbal and one physical. I have the verbal key," he had told her it the day she had turned eighteen, making her swear that she would never forget it. And really, how could she? It was the reason that he had ever found out about her powers in the first place, the offer of hers that had cemented them as friends.

 _Hot chocolate._

"Where's the physical key?" Cecelia wondered. Raven gazed at her sadly.

"Around your neck," Cecilia gasped and her hand went to the necklace around her throat, the green queen. Raven had only seen it once, long ago, when the banker responsible for the Xavier funds had handed it to Charles in a golden envelope.

"He… he said it was only a gift. A family heirloom. He never told me…" Cecilia gasped, unbuckling the necklace and studying it as if she suspected it to turn into gold at any moment now. Raven smiled and nodded.

"It is," she agreed softly. "It's been in his family for three generations. It was supposed to go to his mother, but she wasn't deemed "fit" enough to keep it after his father died, so they gave it to Charles. And I'm guessing that he gave it to you so that should anything ever happen," she met Cecilia's shocked eyes steadily. "Then everything that was his would become yours by Inheritance." She smiled bitterly. "Congratulations. You're now a billionaire," Cecilia did not laugh at the dark humor.

"But… But why?" she gasped, as tears ran down her face. Jason wrapped an arm around her shoulder, staring at the necklace with amazement. "Why would he give it to _me_? Why not to Erik; or you?" she asked. Raven shrugged.

"Because he loves you Cecilia," said simply.

There was a stunned silence as Cecilia stared at her gift, given new purpose. It was ended by Erik. "Well, that's taken care of," he decided. " _Now_ we can begin," he sounded considerably more hopeful. "Did anyone get a good look at the leader?" He asked.

Cecilia nodded shakily. "I did."

"Emma?" Emma gently touched the side of Cecilia's temple and transmitted the image there to everyone else. Raven gasped aloud- in time with Sean, Alex, Hank, and Erik- when they saw the very familiar face. _It can't be,_ Raven thought, horrified. _He's dead. He has to be…_

But there had never been a body. The men who had come to the door to tell them the news had said he died in a fire. Nobody. Just ashes. Yet they had never even received the ashes.

 _There was never a body. He was never dead._

"Wow," Moira gasped, confirming what she knew to be true. "He looked just like Charles," Erik met her eyes, seeking confirmation. Raven nodded, her heart thudding at an all new pace. That was why the man had seemed to have something against Charles. Because he did. He hated him.

For the crime of being mutant.

"I should think so," Hank gasped aloud. "Because that was his father."


	35. Chapter 35

**_Two weeks later:_**

At first, they had kept him in a cage.

Only shadows flitted past the iron bars and he was drugged. So heavily that he could only loll his head against the hard bars of his cage and tug absently at anyone who walked by. they hadn't fed him in the two days he'd been in here. No food, no water. His brain was sluggish, his lips felt thick and dry from dehydration. His legs were curled eternally, him unable to move in the tiny prison.

He remembered the bare basics. He knew they were on a plane. Though where in the world they were he didn't know. His tongue was too thick to ask and he didn't suppose he would get an answer. He thought he heard Cecilia sometimes, whispering to him from outside his cage. Other times it would be Raven or Erik, their soft voices whispering something unintelligible.

And he would bang weakly at the bars of his cage, struggling to get out and understand the people he loved, to grab their hands and tell them his final message: _I love you._

But they would shout at him when he did that, and in his hazy state, the loudness startled him near to tears. So he learned just to sit quietly, and stare at the shadows and listen to the whispers; awaiting his fate at the hands of cruel men.

* * *

Every afternoon for the past two weeks they had met like this. They had sent the children off to go do something which would make Charles proud (this wording was the only way to get them to do anything besides look for Charles nowadays) and the adults in the house would sit down and go over their progress. For the past three weeks, there had been no progress.

Mostly because no one knew where to start. When Erik had been tracking Shaw, it had been just that- tracking. He had had clues, leads, small details to go off of even if it was the smell of Shaw's cheap cologne. Now he had absolutely _no clue_ what to do or how to find him and every moment Charles was away his heart tugged itself into knots until on the twenty-first day he collapsed into bed and, Menorah in hand, prayed in his people's ancient language for the first time since Auschwitz.

When it finally did come, it came in a most… Unexpected way.

"Emma," Erik was addressing her when it happened. "Have you gotten anything from Cerebro?" the word _yet_ hung in the air like a still cloud. Emma shook her head. Her eyes had been insistently filled with worry whenever she looked at him lately.

"Nothing," she clucked beneath her tongue. "I can feel him there at the edge of psyche. He's alive. I know he's there, but I can't reach him, cannot even get a distinct feel on his head. Like you would feel a bug crawling on your skin but can't pinpoint where," she reported, for perhaps the sixth time that week. Erik pinched the bridge of his nose.

He didn't know what else to do.

That's when there was a strong knock at the newly made front door. Erik was on his feet at once, the small balls he kept in his pocket flashing into miniscule knives. Hank growled. Moira brought out her gun and pressed herself into the doorway of the Carnation room. Logan's claws stretched out. Jason touched the wall and he became plaster, positioning himself protectively in front of Cecilia.

They all tensed, waiting for another knock. It came, once, twice, a decisive rapping upon the door. He glanced at the others. Why would an attacker knock? _Well, I've seen weirder things. "_ Wait!" Cecilia hissed. "What if it's Charles?" That stopped the Mutants cold.

"Since when does he knock?" Raven asked quizzically.

Hank shook his head. "Certain drugs can quite easily disable telepathic powers. Maybe he can't do anything _but_ knock," the image of Charles broken and bleeding at the doorstep, knocking desperately, made Erik shudder. What if it was him? Yet what if it was someone else, the kidnappers returned to break their half of the deal?

"What do we do?" Jason asked softly, having come to the same problematic conclusion. Before Erik could answer them, Moira's cell phone rang. She looked down at it baffled, before gingerly picking it up. The others crept closer, listening intently.

"Er… Hello?" she asked uncertainly.

"McTaggert?" Moira's face registered surprised.

"McGilligan, sir?" She gasped. Erik recognized the voice of the leader of the CIA, Moira's boss. He cocked an eyebrow. He hadn't even known Moira was still part of the CIA. Hadn't she been fired by now? "Uh… Hello, sir…Why are you calling me?" Moira wondered in her politest quizzical tone.

"Because, I'm going to ask you and your mutant friends not to attack the person at the door," McTaggert replied curtly. Erik glanced at the doorway.

Moira was looking in that direction also. "Who exactly is at our door?" Moira asked, sounding completely and utterly confused as Erik felt.

"Someone who heard about your dilemma and wants to help," Erik narrowed his eyes.

"How did you know we were in a dilemma?" Moira demanded immediately. "Were those men yours, McGilligan?" The way she phrased that question made it clear that if they had been his men, he would have Moira to answer too.

"No, they weren't my men. But my men have been… Er… _Surveying_ the area and they heard about it," he explained slowly. Alex and Sean looked at one another with narrowed eyes. Michael and Logan vanished at once to check up on the children.

Moira was livid. "You've been spying on us all this time and you just _now_ send help?"

"No, we only started spying on you last week!"

"Oh, that's such a comfort, thanks!"

"Do you want help saving Professor X or not, Moira?!"

"Who is at the door? A _name,_ McGilligan, or I'm putting a bullet in his kneecap."

A harrumph on the other side of the phone. "John F. Kennedy; Commander and Chief of the United States of America, grand authority over all fifty states. Was that good enough for you?" Erik gasped aloud. he stared at Emma.

The _President_ was here?

"Dude," Sean breathed. "Did he just say the President is knocking at our door?"

"Should we actually let him inside?" Jason echoed. "I mean, should he know that we live here?"

Moira sighed. "If the CIA has been spying on us then he already knows we live here. Erik, go open the door," she ordered impatiently. Erik knew better than to contradict her, and with Cecilia following, he walked to the front door and carefully opened it.

Despite having been told that the President was at his doorstep, he was still surprised to actually see _John F. Kennedy_ …

Was at the door.

Two men in black suits were on either side of him. The supreme authority of one of the most powerful countries in the world gave a warm smile. "Good evening, Magneto," he said, not cheerful but not… Droll, either. "Or, the CIA's spies have identified you as _Erik_. Congratulations on your Nobel Peace Prize, by the way. I was rooting for you. May I come in?" Erik struggled to keep his cool. Kennedy was everything he had imagined, and _… More._ Cecilia seemed to have less of an issue about it. She gently pushed past Erik and waved a hand inside.

"Please do, Mr. President," she invited him in with a small smile. He nodded to her and waved his men back.

"Stay here, boys. I'll be fine," Erik felt his brows vanish beneath his bang line at the show of faith. He stepped aside as the President walked in. Mr. Kennedy gave a brief look around the house. Erik imagined after the grandeur of the White House, he wouldn't be impressed, and indeed he could tell he wasn't. More of… Intrigued. "I imagined you'd all be hiding out in a place like this," The President stated with a small smile.

"It's beautiful," he was stuck for a decent reply.

"Thank you," Cecilia answered for him. "This way, if you please. The others will want to meet you," how the hell was she so calm about _this_?

The others were just as stuck for a decent word when they saw who had walked into the room. "Wow," Sean mumbled to Hank. "When he said the President, I thought he meant President of the, unimportant we-have-no-money committee. Not of the _United States_ ," Hank nodded in agreement.

Kennedy heard, and chuckled. "Please sit down. Would you like something to drink?" Cecilia asked, having established herself as the hostess of the house. Erik leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. Emma joined him.

 _How is he?_ She asked in his mind.

Erik took a moment to answer, and he sounded incredulous to himself. _He's… Nice._ Emma's brows shot up and she turned back to Kennedy with a keen look in her eyes.

The mutants all sat down on the couches that Kennedy wasn't sitting on. Moira had gotten don with her phone call and walked in casually. She smiled at Mr. Kennedy.

"Mr. President, it _is_ good to see you again."

"You two have met?" Michael gasped.

Moira gave a sly grin. "No, but I saw him on the television. You're looking well. How is your family?" she inquired. He nodded to her amusedly, eyes brightening at the mention of his family.

"It is a pleasure to meet you too, Ms. McTaggert. You've helped create quite a stir in this country," she smiled.

"It's my job, sir."

"I see that. My family is well, thank you. Better than you all are, at any rate," he shook his head and turned to the assembled Mutants. "Before we go any further," he established. "Let me be the first to give you my sincere congratulations on your achievements. _All_ of you are true heroes," he stopped. Erik nodded. His Nobel prize didn't seem to matter so much anymore.

"Also, my sincerest apologies that this horrible thing has happened to you on the behalf of this country. Professor X was an icon to people around the globe-human and mutant alike- I can't imagine why anyone would wish to hurt him," neither could they. Then again, they all knew Charles. The honesty in Kennedy's eyes settled the rage that boiled in Erik at the very _mention_ of Charles being hurt.

"Lastly, I won't take up much more of your time. Indeed, there's no time to waste," he slung a leg over the other knee, fixing them with a composed gaze. Erik decided that he _liked_ the President. He was good person.

"Let me explain to you what I did when I heard about this… _Atrocity_ three days ago. I immediately sent letters to every State Legislator in this country, asking for their support in staging a National man-hunt. Then I telegraphed every ally of these United States and asked the same," he had done _what_?

"In the time span of three hours after this was accomplished, I not only got affirmatives from forty-five states, but I acquired a pledge of support from America's allies and _beyond._ Your humanitarian efforts have gained yourself-and him- a favorable acclaim it seems. We are now ready for an _International_ Manhunt, staged by humans and mutants. We have planes ready to take to the skies, ships ready to scour the seas and over sixteen million humans and mutants ready and willing to search every inch of this Earth until we find Charles Xavier," he cocked his head.

"I came here not only to inform you of this- but to ask the X-Men to lead it. Would you be able to do that?"

By this time Cecilia had burst into tears of pure gratitude. The rest of them merely stared at him, speechless. Erik, for once, felt as if he had no idea what he was doing. And felt quite unworthy of the task before him; actually _talking_ to this man. And not only that but…

 _An International manhunt?_

His knees felt weak. He had to lean on the wall to hold himself up. "Uh…" He had to speak, didn't he? What did one say to that? In what words could he _possibly_ describe the gratitude in his soul? How?

Logan had the answer. "Hey! Where are my cigarettes?" He hollered throughout the house as he suddenly stuck his head in the doorway, frowning.

When he saw the President there, he did not seem at all awkward or awed. Instead, he just asked: "We going to look for Charles now?" The silence was enough of a confirmation. "Good," he stated. "I'll lead the Canadians. I gotta smoke first, though. After I figure out…" he gave them all a murderous look.

"Which one of you damned thieves stole my cigarettes?!"

* * *

The world spun on its axis dizzily. He remembered his cage being bumped and tipping over. Pain in his head as he hit the top of the cage and then…Darkness. He woke up, fully cognizant, to find himself strapped to a metal table with a light swinging above.

His arm and legs were spread out, eagled, leaving him vulnerable. Charles looked up, fought the chains holding him down. He reached out with his mind, and found it blocked. he looked around, cringing past the blinding light of the light bulb above his head. The walls were made of the same shiny metal that Shaw had used to keep his mind out. Only this time, he was barred in. he couldn't use his mind to feel anything outside of the room. His gut clenched in sudden terror. He had never been restrained in his earliest gift before, never gone a moment without just knowing the thoughts of those around him...

A chuckle.

"Looking for someone?" He met his father's cruel insane eyes and gulped.

From somewhere far away, he knew that the scientists would be coming to collect blood samples and tissue swabs. Without his permission probably. "You don't have to do this," his father approached, like a stalking cougar.

"For my son, I do."

Charles clenched his teeth in total frustration. "I _am_ your son!" He shouted.

"Liar."

Then pain.


	36. Chapter 36

**_A month later:_**

A unified moan of protest broke through the mouth of everyone in the room when Erik flipped on the television with a twitch of his finger. He was becoming more and more powerful by the day, as if Charles's absence gave him the strength to continue beyond normal human bounds.

"This past month has seen a tidal wave of human charity and teamwork, hasn't it Holly?" Jim asked, sounding considerably more cheerful than he did regularly. Cecilia supposed that was a step forward. She yawned.

"Indeed, Jim, indeed! As most of the world knows, little over a month ago, Professor Xavier was kidnapped from his home by Anti-Mutant Society members, giving himself for the sake of his students," Cecilia closed her eyes in somber protest at the remembrance of that horrible night. She felt Emma place a hand on her shoulder, silently comforting.

 _Be strong, Cecilia. I love you._

 _I'm trying, Charles._

"Since then, humans and mutants from many a country around the world have pulled together to create the largest Man-Hunt in the world, led by the X-Men. They've already covered more than one-fifth of the Earth's surface, Jim!"

"Amazing," Jim gasped.

"Erik, can we watch something educational please? I already know everything they're telling me," Sean griped. Bobby and Scott laughed.

"Hush," Erik scolded, his eyes stuck on the screen as if it held secrets. "I want to know what they're saying about it," of all the people, Erik, Raven and Cecilia had been the ones most obsessed with the Manhunts, gleaning every bit of information from their search parties all over the world. But after a month of doing this, only Erik seemed to get more obsessed by the day.

Cecilia just missed him more and more every day. So much it hurt.

"Who cares? This is waste of my beauty sleep time!" Cecilia smiled and ruffled Sean's wild orange hair.

"You'll survive," she promised him. She turned to Moira, standing behind them. "Moira, I wanted to ask you…?"

"Ssshhh!" Erik hissed.

"If you would teach me how to fight," Cecilia finished, having learned to ignore Erik when he was like this. Moira cocked a curious eyebrow at her, but said nothing as Holly and Jim went on.

"It seems as if mutants and humans have finally found something to bring them together, then Holly!"

"I agree, Jim. Why, I've never seen such a variety of people getting along and joining together for a common cause before in my life. Professor X would be proud," no, Charles would have been ecstatic if he could have seen the overall tolerance people show for one another. Cecilia had seen four mutants walking in the streets, freely and no one had done a thing about it. Not an insult, not a word of protest.

It was as if they were all human, which had never been truer. "Why?" Moira asked her at last. Cecilia gulped.

"Because, if… _When_ we find Charles, we might have to fight for him," she tipped her chin back. "And I will not be left behind," she growled.

Moira nodded understandingly. "Are you sure? You might be forced to kill."

"For Charles? Anything," another nod of understanding, and a glance of approval from Erik. She trusted he would be right at her side.

"Erik!" That was Kitty, bounding in with Ororo and Rogue on her heels. She was waving an envelope in the air. "We got a letter from Mr. Kennedy!" Cecilia smiled a bit at the reminder of the secret Mutant president. When he and shown them _that_ … She didn't remember much besides catching Raven when the younger girl literally fainted.

Since then, he and his wife had visited them often, offering their silent encouragement and support. Erik and Mr. Kennedy had become fast friends in their pursuit of Charles, and Cecilia and Emma were close to Mrs. Kennedy. They were good people. Erik looked up from the television just as Sean let out a sonic scream which knocked it over.

He sent Sean harsh glance and took the simple envelope stamped with the president's seal from Kitty. "What does it say?" Rogue asked curiously.

"They've come to arrest Sean for driving me crazy," Hank guessed.

Erik shook his head and opened the envelope. He read it aloud before anyone could ask him a second time what it said. "Dear X-Men and school," he began. "I wanted you to be the first to get the news of this. Yesterday, a new bill was put on my desk by an aide. It had passed through the Congress unanimously, and I nearly fell out of my chair with surprise. It is the Mutant Equality Act, and I passed it," Erik stopped.

Time did too.

Cecilia gasped as her eyes snapped up to meet Jason's. The bill… Passed? They were free? "All Laboratories with the purpose of Mutant Experimentation are now illegal and are to be destroyed. Mutants have the full rights of any American citizen. Congratulations, my friends; your generosity has earned our people peace. And finally, we are free. Thank you."

Alex collapsed into the plush couch seat, stunned. The others stood in an tense, breathless circle, all staring at the letter in Erik's hand as the meaning of what it meant sunk in. The silence smothered them. Cecilia felt as if she couldn't breathe. It had been so long. So long that they had yearned for freedom, and now that they had it… She and the others were at a loss. What did they do now?

 _Whatever you want._

Was it really that simple? "I can't…." Hank's voice cracked. "I can't believe it," he stammered.

"We're free?" Rogue choked, eyes glistening. They all looked at each other, searching for the answer in the eyes of the person next to them. When that did not work, they turned to Erik. Erik's eyes widened as he realized what they were so astonished about.

It couldn't be true. Dozens of years living in fear couldn't just be over. Not like that. They had fought for this, but never seen it in their future. "We're free?" He echoed uncertainly.

Seeing as how he did not know, everyone naturally looked at her. Then it hit Cecilia, square in the chest and through the heart like a lance.

They were free. They were equal. Her brother didn't have to fear. She could marry Charles. The world was at peace.

"We _are_ free," she decreed.

Raven looked at Hank, standing next to her, swathed in the same wonder as she. All these years…"Hank!" Raven screamed, as if she had not seen him in all this time either, and really they had not. The people they had been in the old world-the world of two minutes ago- had been desperate, hungry, hardened by malice and cruelty; that had not been them.

For the first time in their lives, Raven was staring at Hank as a free man. For once, the scientist did not need the emotions spelled out for him. "Raven!" He cried also, with jubilance as they threw their arms around each other. The joy spread. It was then that Emma threw her arms around Erik's neck from behind.

"We're _free_! Whoo hoo!" she shouted, raising a fist in the air. Cecilia had to cover her ears a second later as Moira and Ororo screeched with joy. Alex and Cassidy threw their arms around each other.

Rogue raced to Logan and hugged his middle tightly. Sean and Alejandro danced in a circle, roaring elatedly, slamming their hands down on his knees.

Azazel let laughter bubble past his lips and Jason laughed his immature snickering laugh and grabbed her in a bear hug.

"Sis," he whispered into her ear. "I'm _safe."_

At last. Cecilia gently touched the necklace around her neck. _Oh, Charles._ "Hey, Erik?" she whispered as the celebrations grew even more excited. She released her brother and walked over just as Erik released Emma from an elated kiss.

"Hmm?" Erik wondered, arms around Emma's waist. He looked down at her with new eyes.

Cecilia grinned, and gripped his hand in hers. They were all weeping tears of gladness. She spoke the truth. "Since Charles isn't here to say it; I will," She grinned devilishly. "You _lose!_ " she laughed.

"With a month to spare in the bet!" Alex added.

Erik roared with laughter. "Ah, yeah. He was right then," he acquiesced, squeezing her hand. "He was right all along."

* * *

 _ **A week later:**_

"Erik… The Germans have come," Erik turned around to see Emma in the doorway of the communications tent. Her face was grave in the dim light, beautiful in an intense, unearthly way. He gave a curt nod to what she said, the innards of his soul aflame. The Germans were the last of their attack force to arrive. Which meant that they could begin now. After almost two months, they were going to retrieve Charles.

Or die trying.

Silently, he stepped out after her, into the blinding snowstorm. The criminals had hidden Charles away in Antarctica. He could still see the base, obscured and blotted out by the snowflakes which bit his cheeks the second he walked into the storm. He glanced around, seeing over a hundred of the world's finest human and mutants standing there, awaiting his orders.

At the front stood his X-Men, shoulders back, eyes ablaze despite the pervasive chill in the air. Alex, Sean, Hank and Cassidy stood next to them, arms crossed. As the students of Xavier they stood back, allowing the X-Men to do what they did best, but he knew that they would manage to get a few hits in. Moira and Cecilia were ready. He saw the same fire which burned in his heart in Cecilia's eyes, and knew that this fight would as much be her revenge as it would be his.

His mind flashed over the statistics of their chosen plan one more time. It was as it had been on Cuba, ironically. Their forces would distract whatever guards and soldiers protected this monstrous fortress. Emma would guide him once inside to the inner chamber where Charles was hidden in an anti-telepathic vault. He would grab Charles and escape. He looked at Cecilia, the heart of his brother.

"Are you ready?" A swift nod.

"Bring him home, Erik," she commanded him seriously. Erik nodded to this woman-who was uncannily worthy of Charles Xavier- and laid a hand on Raven's shoulder, including her in his next statement.

"I promise." Then, he squinted at the snowstorm, and raised a hand. "Aerial forces," That was Sean, Cassidy and the flying mutants. "Go!" they took off into the air, carrying large rocks and guns. They would take out the sentries in the disguising snow. They had the element of surprise.

"Ground forces, after them!" Led by Logan and Riptide. The army tensed, every single person attuned to his commands. Then they charged down the steep slope leading to the compound. Erik folded his hands behind his back, watching as the three forces collided. He had assumed that Charles's father would have defenses. He would have known that they had been searching, and that it was only a matter of time until they found him.

That time had come.

"Emma?"

"Good luck." He gave her a firm smile and nod, he had promised to marry her as soon they found Charles. This day would prove victorious in more than one way, he could _feel it_.

It was time for him to get started. Erik nodded. "Right. You too," he said as he suddenly charged down the hill, escaping sliding a bare handful of times. He did slide to a halt a few feet from the door though. The guards were too busy being overwhelmed by his forces to notice him slip inside.

In the second it took for him to do so, Erik leapt to take cover behind a wall. With a huff, he scanned the empty hall for cameras. _Are you in?_

 _Yes._

 _Alright, head left and look out for those cameras sweetheart._

There, four of them between him and the door. Erik smiled and gently moved the cameras to the side with a swipe of his hand. Then, with feet light from war, he slipped between the space that separated him from the door as the cameras re-adjusted themselves. A simple wind could have blown them off course.

Smashing himself against the nearest door, he glanced over his shoulder at the empty hallway beyond.

 _Good. Now I want you to take three more rights. The spot is deep inside the compound_ , he grunted. He would worry about what that meant for Charles later. First, he had to get there. He followed Emma's directions. He could fairly feel Charles getting closer, in the pocket of his mind that Charles occupied.

"Now," he muttered as he knocked out two guards. "Where am I going?" His eyes roamed the inside of the hollow and titanium walls. He cursed beneath his breath. He couldn't manipulate this metal. He was vulnerable. He grabbed the two metal balls in his pocket and levitated them above his head, ready for an attack.

 _Down the next two hallways. No turns. That's where the… spot is,_ before he could move, though, he heard light footsteps. Soundlessly, he ran down the hall and vaulted behind a corner. "Why didn't Xavier warn us that the Mutants were going to attack this way?" A feminine voice hissed as they walked down the hall towards the door.

"I don't know, but our prisoner will not last much longer," another answered almost boredily. Erik felt his eyebrows scrunch together. He poked his head around to see a man and woman.

The woman was a Mutant. Her skin was a tawny gold, with long chestnut hair running down her back. She wore an exaggerated red skirt and black shirt that covered basically zero of her body. The man was… Odd. His skin was milky grey, his eyes feline like.

Erik inhaled sharply and pressed his back against the wall again. Who were they? _And can they lead me to Charles?_ He looked over his shoulder, meaning to track them. His eye scanned the hallway. It was empty. He frowned. _Where did they go?_

 _Erik, behind you!_

"Looking for someone Magneto?" Erik felt a sharp pain in his head, then saw nothing.

* * *

"No!" Emma screamed, pounding her fists down on the hard icy ground. Azazel glanced at her. "I lost him!" Emma shouted anxiously, jumping to her feet, about to run in and find them both herself. Azazel put a soothing hand on her shoulder.

"The Chief is strong," he told her. "Besides, we need you to help us coordinate the battle here. Stay, Emma," every fiber of her being demanded that she smack Azazel for even suggesting that she leave him, but her mind- at least- knew that he was right. Erik would want her to stay.

With a hiss of frustration, she yanked her shoulder from his grip and knelt down. For goodness sakes, why was it Cecilia and Moira were allowed to fight but she had to stay on the sidelines like some sort of puppet-master? She wanted to fight, wanted to run in.

 _Charles, you'd better be alright. Because this is your job…_


	37. Chapter 37

He was awakened by a splash of ice cold water that hit his face, his nerves instantly set aflame by the change in temperature. Erik gasped and pedaled backward, flinching away from the cold as images of dark water flashed in his mind. Was he drowning again?

A dark chuckle from above helped him reign in his panic. Erik gasped and realized that he was handcuffed with cold plastic chords, his hands pulled tight behind his back. His arms were being held by two strong hands on either side of him.

He was on his knees, another hand positioned at the back of his neck, keeping him there. The metal he had kept in his pockets were gone, and he did not have to look to know that the walls of this place were made out of stone, not metal. He growled deep in his throat and looked up.

He was met with a familiar sight of his helmet-curse the thing now!- sitting atop another familiar face. Erik could have smiled.

 _These idiots._

He crooked a finger, reaching deep inside himself for the balanced light of rage and serenity...And found it empty. His eyes snapped open as shock sent an icy tingle through his entire body. his horror was met by the man still standing above him, watching Erik's realization with a predatory smile.

Charles's father did look like him, only an older version and with a graying beard to match, but those sapphire eyes were ones he would have recognized anywhere. However, where Charles's was full of wisdom, compassion, courage; this man had hatred, insanity, righteous malice in his eyes. He was the dark to Charles's light, the cruel to his kindness and the first thing Erik did was spit at his shoes.

This beast deserved nothing less. Suddenly, where he was _shook_ violently. Erik looked up as tiny pebbles rained down from the stone ceiling. They were deep underground then, also judging by the extreme freezing temperatures, made worse by the fact that Erik had cold water dripping down his front and he had been drugged. His powers were useless now.

 _ **I'm**_ _useless now._

"Soon, your compound will be overcome," he told the maniac staring down at him, trying to still his racing heart. He had not been cut off from his powers like this since he was a boy in Shaw's clutches. "It would be wise to run," he never saw the kick that landed in his gut, but he did feel it and it was enough to make him double over in pain.

"An Xavier _never_ surrenders," Erik knew that. He lived with one. A door behind him opened, and Erik shivered as cold air breathed down his neck.

"Sir? We're ready for the other mutant now," _the other mutant._ Reminded of why he was here in the first place, Erik clenched his teeth and tried to yank himself free of the hands holding him. He succeeded only in getting a few feet ahead before the hands yanked him backward painfully.

"Where's Charles?" The man above him smirked. "What have you done with him?" He hissed.

"Are you here for your friend, demon?" That smile made a shiver run up Erik's spine. He narrowed his eyes. Two months Charles had been in the captivity of this mad man. The thought was terrifying.

"Don't worry, you'll see him soon," a wave of his hand. "Take him to the lab," the lab. Erik did not try to struggle. He knew the hand on the back of his neck could do some painful damage if he did. He merely allowed himself to be roughly manhandled to his feet and blindfolded.

"Start walking, freak," he felt something sharp prodded into his back and had to bite his tongue to avoid crying out. He began walking, prodded along like cattle towards wherever they were taking him. His heart thudded in his chest, remembering Emma's stories of the experimentation labs.

What condition would he find Charles in? What horrors had been done? Would he even be alive? _He is. He has to be alive._ Erik would feel it if he weren't. He would know.

They reached their goal sooner than he thought. Selenium glass doors opened, revealing the room to be made of the same foreign metal which made up the helmet on that monster's head. Erik growled low in his throat. That was why Emma could never contact Charles with telepathy. She had been blocked by this stupid room!

Rage built inside of him. Charles must have gone crazy in here…

Charles. Where was he?

His eyes scanned the lab, and his head skipped a beat. This place reminded him of Shaw's laboratory, only now there were two metal experimentation tables. The one on the right was empty. The one on the left, however…

Erik paled as he was shoved forward into the room. There was Charles lying vulnerable and bloody on the table, his arms spread out and his immobile legs cocked into crooked angles.

His shirt had been ripped off some time ago, and the giant light shined into his face reflected the bruises blossoming beneath his skin, like colorful flowers of purple, sickly yellow and black. He had been beaten multiple times. His face was sweaty and creased in gruesome agony. There were several wires attached to his forehead and temples, buzzing loudly as they were connected to a giant machine nearby.

Erik's heart wrenched and he could only cry out in anguish for his brother. _"Charles!"_ He jumped forward, wanting-needing-to go to him, but he was yanked back towards the table.

His eyes remained on Charles. He already knew what could happen to his friend if he fought. So, swallowing the nausea that threatened to overcome him at the idea of once again being strapped to a metal table, Erik bit his bottom lip and stared at his agonized friend. His voice seemed to have brought Charles out of his close-eyed stupor. The man Erik had not seen in two months opened his blackened and sleepless sapphire eyes and turned his head slowly towards the voice.

Recognition flamed in his eyes at once when he saw Erik, now chained with his arms eagled out on the surface of the table. A giant light was shined near him, assessing. Erik ignored it. "Charles," he whispered, as tears blurred his vision. "What have they done to you?" Charles didn't answer. His breathing was slow, labored. Possibly a broken rib then.

The doors slid open a second time. Charles's father waltzed in, hands folded behind his back. Charles whipped his head around with a distinctive crack sound, eyes ablaze. "You…" His voice was nearly unrecognizable. It was thin, scratchy, sound hoarse from screaming. "You _promised_ … You wouldn't… hurt them…" he accused in a labored voice. His father spared him an annoyed glance.

"I did not go back on my word," he growled contemptuously. "Your friend came to _me_ ," he growled. He stalked up to where Charles lay helpless, slowly. Erik saw his friend flinch, and rage boiled over the bounds of his control.

"Get away from him!" he roared. The monster broke out of his trance. He had been staring at Charles as if he were entranced by him, as if he suspected there was some part of him that was ethereal. And why not? He already thought he was a demon. Erik wondered what he saw when he looked in the mirror because anyone who could stomach to do this to _Charles_ was the real monster.

He turned to Erik and sneered. "I will do as I wish," he delivered a sharp slap against Charles's face. The telepath made no sound but that of his head banging against the table. He turned his face away, another bruise swelling on fragile skin. Erik gulped down vomit. He would kill this man and every single person in this compound for what they had done to his friend…

"But before we begin testing on you, too," the madman begun.

"No," Charles moaned.

"There's someone who wants to see you first. I think I'll go get her before I have to deal with the traitorous forces that have come down upon our righteous cause," he growled glaring at Erik accusingly before he turned on his heel and promptly walked out, leaving Erik alone with his friend.

The lump in his throat would not allow him to speak. Erik just lay there, breathing hard in rage and guilt. His eyes never left Charles, communicating every unspoken word between them. Then: "you came for me," it was a statement made in amazement, awe, gratitude. Erik felt a tear dribble down his cheek.

 _I should have come sooner._ Trying for humor, he quipped back a response. "Of course I did, idiot," he replied fondly. "What are friends for?" Charles's bloody lips quirked into a small half-smile. His eyes lit up.

"So glad t' see you, Erik," he slurred softly. "I've missed you," Erik opened his mouth, wanting to tell Charles that he had barely gotten any sleep for missing him. But he would save that for when they were at home, safe.

"I'm going to get you out of here Charles," he promised fiercely. "I'm taking you home. The others are already on their way," he saw hope leap to life in Charles's eyes and relaxed marginally.

"The… Children?" Charles asked worriedly. Erik smiled.

"They're all fine. The antidote worked," Charles long, wet exhale was one of relief that left him gasping for breath. Erik continued for him, already knowing what he was going to ask next.

"Cecilia has been very brave. She's worthy of you," at the sound of her name Charles closed his eyes momentarily as if it brought him relief from the pain on the inside. "Charles… What have they done to you?" Charles opened his eyes.

They were filled with agonizing emptiness. "You don't… Want to know…They didn't… Get what…They wanted… Though," even that minuscule sentence made Charles limp with exhaustion, but Erik needed to hear the sound of his voice. He blinked in surprise.

"What did they want?"

"Info…"

"On who?"

Charles's eyes were sad, and ashamed. "Everyone," he whispered. Erik understood immediately. Being a telepath, Charles was product of stray thoughts, ideas, dreams. Erik imagined he probably knew more military secrets just from being in the room with someone than anyone else in the world. His head was a database of human secrets and agonies, entrusted to him by fate.

He had not betrayed that trust.

And his body had been broken in consequence. Erik's heart melted in sympathy and pride. Charles was stronger than people gave him credit for. Stronger than Erik was. "You're the bravest man I've ever met, Charles," he blurted, unable to resist saying that at least. Charles shook his head weakly.

"Wouldn't say that… If you knew…" Erik didn't need to know. Even if the horror in Charles's eyes told him that it had not been pretty.

"I've already seen what you've done," he said softly, desperate to wrench the guilt he saw in Charles's eyes out of his soul by the roots. "Outside this forsaken prison. Charles… The Mutant Equality Bill. It _passed_ ," Charles eyes widened. Erik hurried to go on. "Do you know that a worldwide manhunt was staged to find you? Over half the world's population of mutants and humans came forward to find you, Charles, working together and beside each other. You've brought the world together. You've brought _peace_ ," a tear raced down his face.

"I… Erik… Really?" He stammered. Erik chuckled softly.

"I wouldn't lie to a telepath," a small smile exchanged between them, then Charles shook his head slowly.

"You…" he coughed harshly, pulling against his bonds as he spat blood over the side of the table. Erik's heart froze.

"Easy," he mumbled, pain wracking through his soul in tandem with Charles. _Oh, my brother._ It tore him apart to see Charles like this. "Easy, there," Charles stopped, pulling himself back unto the table weakly, gasping.

"You… helped," he continued, as a dribble of blood streaked down the side of his mouth.

"Only at your insistence. I'm sorry I ever doubted you, Charles," He shook his head in wonder. "You were right all along," he whispered. Charles was staring at the ceiling, still gasping for uneven breaths.

"S'okay," he mumbled. "I doubted sometimes… Too," he pointed out. Both of their minds flashed to Boston, and the bomb there. Erik shivered. He would not pull Charles's dead, broken body from this place like he had those people. He wanted to reach over, cradle his friend in his arms.

The building shook again, more violently this time. Erik smiled. His team was doing some damage. "That's the others," he told Charles, who looked around confusedly. "They're coming," a small nod. "Charles, can you tell me your injuries?"

Charles shook his head. "To many… To count," he breathed. He cringed and looked at Erik a little desperately. "It hurts… Really bad," he coughed. Erik's blood froze.

"What does?" he demanded.

" _Everything_ … Don't know if… I can hold on…Erik…" The confession was made in shame and apology. Erik's heart skipped a beat.

"You have too, Charles. Hey, look at me! You have too. Who would be Best Man at my wedding?" A quizzical frown.

"Still haven't… Married her yet?"

"No. I wanted to wait until we got you back first," Charles gave him a small, affectionate smile.

"That's sweet," he murmured.

"Shut up, Charles," they sat in a compatible silence for a moment. Erik had just opened his mouth to ask if Charles was still awake (his breathing had slowed) when the door snapped open. Inside walked the mutant woman he had seen earlier. She smiled and stopped in front of them as the building shook again. Erik glared at her from the corner of his eyes as Charles shrunk back.

"Charlene," he whispered with a shudder.

"Charlie," she replied, walking over. She was no older than Raven.

"Who are you?" Erik demanded. "And what are you doing here?" she cocked her head at him, studying him as if to memorize his features.

"Take a guess," she purred.

Her nonchalance made his face burn with fury. "How could you do this to your own kind? You're a mutant!" He yelled.

She barked out a laugh. "Oh, that's rich coming from you! I offer my interrogation services for money. You _save_ humans," She pointed out.

"I help people in need," Erik answered coldly. She crossed her arms over her chest dubiously and gave him a look of tight, unrestrained hatred. Now that Erik was looking right into her face. There was something very familiar about her. She reminded him of…

"A murderer like you? I don't think so," she snorted.

"What do you know about what I've done?" Charles was gazing between them anxiously.

" _Erik_ …"

"I know you took my father away from me," her father? What? Erik glared at her. What was this person talking about? "I know that the humans you save killed my mother," she was almost shouting by now. "I know that I searched for my father for _months,_ and finally found him being eaten by buzzards on Cuba with a coin smashed into his brain. I know _that_!"

 _Shaw._

Erik gasped, realizing that she did look familiar. Shaw had had a wife and daughter? When? Erik had tracked him all over the world and never seen him do more than one-night stands with people. True, it only took one time to have a child, but a child that actually loved him?

"He killed my family," he could not take time to deduce Shaw's life now. He had a daughter that had lost her father on his hands now, looking for revenge. Just as he had once done for the death of his own parents.

"He was a hero. A freedom fighter!"

"He killed thousands of innocent people!"

"LIAR!" She screamed, slamming a hand down on the table next to his head. He stared into her eyes, unafraid. She had to know the truth. "You're a liar!"

"Erik!" Charles cried in alarm. Both of them ignored him.

Erik shook his head. "He killed my family. I took my revenge," he wasn't very sorry about it. She bared her teeth in a vicious snarl.

"So how are you any different from the monster you claim he was? Because now my family is dead," her eyes flashed. "And it's all because of you and the humans you love," Erik inhaled sharply, seeing the logic in her words. Charles's gentle but grave advice echoed through his mind again.

 _"_ _Listen to me very carefully, my friend, killing will not bring you peace."_

Charles was always right. Erik sighed. He would not make her pain more by arguing it over with her. He settled. "Take your revenge then," he replied, calmly. "I'm right here," and he was not afraid. He had been through torture before.

The cold smile she gave him was animalistic and as cruelly vain as her father's had been. Erik shivered. "Who says I'm going to take it out on _you_?" she asked, softly stroking his cheek. Erik paled as he realized what she meant. Charles, from far away, sighed.

"Saw…It coming," he wheezed. Erik's fists clenched.

"He has nothing to do with this," he growled. She smiled deviously and pinched his cheek.

"Did you ever wonder where he got those diamond bullets from?" She wondered patiently. The gears clicked in Erik's mind. Like the diamond bullet in Charles's spine? The diamond bullets that had been shaped and created with such care, and nothing man-made on earth could cut a diamond.

Except if it were a mutation.

She saw in his eyes that he understood. She patted his cheek and walked towards Charles. Erik's voice grew desperate as he struggled, pulling at the binds around his wrists. "Stop!" he yelled. "I'm the one you hate! I killed Shaw, not him!" he cried. She shrugged.

"He helped," she pointed out. Erik let out a curse at the dark, horrible irony of that statement. Charles had been trying to save Shaw, but Erik…

 _"_ _Killing will not bring you peace."_

She circled around the other side so that she was still facing Erik. She smiled at him sweetly, rage and pain the dominant emotions n her eyes. She was _enjoying_ this. Charles did not look at her, though Erik saw him tense with terror. He stared at the ceiling, eyes empty and soul tucked away in a place where the physical pain could not destroy him. He was readying himself to receive a punishment for something Erik had done.

"No!" He shouted irately, struggling harder. "You don't have to do this!"

"If you wanted any mercy from me, Erik," she hissed in reply, placing a hand on Charles's lower stomach, right where the bullet would be on the other side of his spine. If she snapped his spine there… Erik saw red past the tears blurring his eyes. "You should have done only one thing," he went still, shocked by the complete irony. "You shouldn't have killed my father," she finished.

"But I did," Erik gasped desperately. "So why are you going to hurt him? _I did it_!" he screamed.

"I've learned these past few months," she said softly, her eyes softening with the pain and loneliness of a little girl who had just lost both parents. A reflection of Erik himself when he was younger. "That the best way to hurt someone is to hurt the ones they love," _no, no please._

"Are you ready Charles? Don't worry," she assured him, as if he were a young child. "I won't snap your spine. Your daddy isn't done with you yet, I'll just go around it," Charles didn't look very comforted by the idea of not dying. "On three, okay? One…."

Erik thrashed on the table, arching his back and tugging at the binds holding him there. He had to get up, had to get to Charles. She couldn't do this! "No!" he roared. "Charles!" His voice cracked. He couldn't bear this.

 _"_ _Killing will not bring you peace."_

"Two…"

For the first time since Cuba, Erik felt pity for Shaw's pain. Now he was sorry. Once again, when it was too late. "Please!" Erik begged hoarsely. "He's a good man. A kind, innocent man! He doesn't deserve this!" he screamed at her. She didn't look up as she interrupted her slow count-down to tell him:

"In my eyes, my father was a kind, innocent man, too," she looked up. "And he deserved this less. Three!"

Charles's screaming drowned out all other sound. He arched his back so high Erik worried he would snap in two as slowly the diamond was pulled through sinew, kidneys, and muscle to the surface. Erik's own tearful pleas were drowned out by the sound of him screaming. It lasted an eternity before the small diamond plopped gently out of Charles's lower stomach and into her hand.

Charles collapsed against the table, his screams coming to an abrupt end. He lay there trembling and gasped for breath past his sobs of agony. Erik was crying too, tears streaking down his face.

"Charles," he cried. "Charles, I'm sorry. Forgive me Charles. I'm so very sorry," he apologized over and over again. He doubted Charles could hear him. He had partially curled, blood spurting out of his tiny wound and soaking his clothes and the table. He was moaning now, silent tears running down his cheeks.

"That's done," Charlene said with a smile. Just as Charles's father walked into the room. There was a gun in his hand; his hair was speckled with snowflakes. Erik stiffened. _Oh, please no._

Charles's father glanced at his son, lying on his back in gruesome agony and cocked his head. "Well done," he gasped, sweat trickling down his brow. "But we're being surrounded. Those damned traitors will be her any second now," he glanced at them.

"He'll bleed out soon," Charlene said, jerking her thumb towards Charles. The other scowled.

"Not fast enough. They'll get here in time to save him," he growled, and Erik would never figure out why that seemed to be a problem for the father of his friend, how he could hate his own kin that much. Charles moaned softly, barely cognizant. Erik struggled to give him strength through their pain-numbed bond. _Hold on Charles. Help is coming._

"If you let us go, I can guarantee some clemency," Erik tried to negotiate. Charles's father laughed.

"I doubt you even know the meaning of the word," he sniggered. "No, I won't survive this. Which means," he raised a gun. Charlene's eyes widened as he pointed it directly at her head. With no hesitation, he shot. Charlene tumbled to the floor, dead. "I won't need your services anymore, my dear," he said, quite calmly for a psychopath.

He turned to Charles for a moment and then shook his head as the building quaked again. Erik heard footsteps shaking the upstairs, and sounds of fighting. They had gotten into the building. Time was running out for Charles's father. _Please hurry;_ he could see the gears in the other's mind moving. He was planning something.

Suddenly, his father walked over to a silver cabinet, rifling through the contents. "My last bullet…" he grumbled Erik exhaled in relief. He was out of ammo. He looked to Charles.

"Hold on, Charles. We're almost home," he called softly. Charles was staring at him with glassy, pain-filled eyes. His blood dripped off the countertop.

"Erik… I'm afraid…" He did not specify of what. The way that he admitted it, in a small voice and the _something_ in his eyes told Erik that he knew something he didn't. His telepathy had let him into a secret of the future.

And the future scared him.

Erik's heart twisted. He started to struggle harder, hurrying to reassure his friend. "We're almost there, Charles. Just a few more moments," Charles shook his head sadly. A tear raced down his bruised cheek.

"No, Erik…"

"Here it is!" the monster stood up, and in his hand was a syringe of red liquid. Erik did not have to ask what it was to know that it was deadly. He struggled violently, begging the heavens for help.

"No!" he yelled desperately. "What are you doing? You've _lost_!" The monster only approached his only born child with the syringe.

"If I'm going, I'm taking this demon with me," Charles's father replied softly.

 _Please, no. Not Charles. I can't bear it…_

"Ugh!" Erik screamed furiously, thrashing in his bonds.

Charles was staring up at his father with eyes full of sorrow and regret. His father stared back at him in kind, and for the first time, Erik saw true emotion in his eyes as he leaned down and gently stroked Charles's hair back. "All I ever wanted," he choked. "Was my son back," Charles's eyes wavered.  
"All I ever wanted," he whispered in reply. "Was my father back."

"Well then," the elder Xavier muttered, gently putting a hand on Charles's arm to push it down. Then he pushed the syringe beneath his skin. Charles did not attempt to stop him. He was in too much pain. "I suppose we both of us are denied our wishes," he stepped away and flung the syringe on the ground.

"Goodbye Charles."

"NO!" Erik screamed in terrified rage. The coward left his son a sorrowful glance of hatred before he turned tail and ran out of the door, leaving only a dying Charles, a desperate Erik and a dead body of a sad little girl. "Charles," Erik gasped out when they were alone. The sound of fighting increased upstairs.

"It's too late, Erik," Charles whispered, eyes stuck to the spot where his father had been a moment before.

"No. I won't accept that. We're so _close,_ Charles," when those sapphire eyes turned to him, Erik blinked away tears at the pure remorse in them. "Don't give up yet," Erik pleaded. "What will I tell your sister? What will I tell Cecilia? I promised them I'd bring you home," he told him in a rush of frantic breath.

 _I won't let you do this to me, Charles. You can't do this…_

Charles gave him a poignant half smile of sorrow. "You already know… What to tell…Them for me…" He pointed out breathlessly as his body spasmed, the poison doing its work.

 _I love you._

Erik swallowed. "This isn't the way it was supposed to go," he cried. "I was supposed to die for you…" Charles shook his head, eyelids fluttering.

"No… Erik, that promise… In Cuba, remember?"

 _"_ _Erik. My sister. The children… You'll…You'll take care of them? Promise me you'll look after them Erik."_

Erik sobbed. "I remember."

"Promise me that, Erik," it was a command. "It's time." Albeit a gentle one. Erik let out another sob and stared into the face that for him had meant redemption, salvation, brotherhood, _family._

"Charles, please," he begged. "Stay with me. Please," _I can't do this without you._

"Never _leave_ you… Erik…" Chares argued passionately. "You're… My brother… Want you t' be happy, kay?" his chest looked like an inflatable balloon, slowly losing air. "Be free, be _safe_ … Promise?"

There was such compassion-and pleading-in those sapphire orbs that Erik could not deny him. He owed him this and more. "I give you my word," even if it tore out his very soul to do it. "I'll take care of them," _all of them._ Cecilia included.

Charles saw the addendums in his mind, and his face that had been creased with pain suddenly slackened. "Thank you," he breathed, and his hand stretched out towards Erik. He stretched his own hand out, separated by binds which were physical, but Erik could still feel Charles there, in his mind. "For everything. You're my… Best friend…"

"And you're mine. I love you, Charles. _So much_ ," Erik closed his eyes and exhaled a shuddering breath. "Goodbye," he whispered past unwilling lips. He heard a last whisper in his head before Charles's eyes fluttered shut and his ribs did not rise again.

 _I_ _ **knew**_ _there was goodness in you, Erik…_

Then he was gone and Erik did not remember the guttural screams that ripped past his throat. He did not remember the haze of guilt and pain that enveloped him or when exactly the drugs wore off just the slightest bit, allowing him to break free of his constraints. He paid no mind to the blood as he slipped over onto the floor as he stumbled to Charles's side, and he was too busy listening to the breaking of his own heart to hear his frantic sobs as he broke Charles's binds. He collapsed to the ground with the body of his brother in his arms, arms wrapped around Charles's back and shoulders as he pulled him close to Erik's chest and wept his heart out.

"Charles," he moaned like a dying animal, rocking the cold body in his arms. "Charles… Please…" he touched Charles's cold face, stroked his cheeks, kissed his hair, anything to awaken him. Nothing worked. Erik rocked forward, rolling with the waves of pain.

"My heart will break. My heart will break… Charles, please…" he begged the lifeless corpse. He did not remember any of this, but he did remember the expression on Raven's face when the doors to their prison opened and she saw him there with Charles.

He _did_ remember how he looked up to see the devastated faces of his X-Men and Cecilia as they stood in the doorway, and beheld the broken body of their dead leader, lover and brother. "I couldn't save him," Erik confessed his shame, sobbing so hard he couldn't breathe. "Forgive me," he buried his face in Charles's bloody neck and wept. "Forgive me."


	38. Chapter 38

_**A week later:**_

"Who else doesn't feel ready for this?" Hank asked from above her. Emma Frost, X-Men, Nobel Peace Prize winner, teacher and sister looked up at the other suffering soul as he sat down next to her, and though Hank tried to hide it, also saw the anguish in his eyes. Still there. She doubted it would ever leave.

She sighed and shook her head. "None of us will ever be ready for this," she told him. Hank nodded, the shadows in his eyes were tangible, there, and ready. There was no consoling him or any of them. Even Emma had ceased with her attempts. Some things just hurt too much.

She glanced sidelong at Hank as Jason walked in and plopped down heavily on her other side. The three of them sat in a prolonged silence, weighed down by worries and despairs, for a long moment.

Then: "How is she?" One corner of his mouth twitched up, but it was not in happiness or amusement as once it had been. It had been a week since anyone had laughed. This was no surprise. Today was not a day for laughter. Though it should have been, for _Christmas Eve_ was the next day was coming.

It _was_ the Holidays for goodness sakes. One of Emma's favorite holidays. Their first together as an entire family.

Or, almost an entire family. They were missing one member.

Now, a few days before Christmas, they were going to a funeral. Emma was wearing black. Her hair had been tied up, in respect. Hank and Jason, were also covered in the darkness of their suits. The entire house looked like heralds of the night.

"She's… Trying," Hank finally breathed. "It's been hard on her these past couple of days. The mornings are the worst, when she wakes up and realizes that she doesn't feel him in her mind anymore. She's filled with self-loathing," Emma had sensed all of this, of course, but the blow of hearing it made her cringe. Raven had once stood so strong, so confident. The loss of her brother had crippled her spirit. Not as badly as it had Erik, though.

"Why?" Jason asked. Hank ran a hand through his hair, exhaled slowly, and looked up, leaning heavily on his knees.

"Because she was so hard on him for certain things," he replied. Emma knew what things he referred to. Charles erasing some pieces of Rave's memory when she was younger to protect her, never telling her the truth about her life, controlling her decisions unconsciously… These things she had agreed at the time of hearing them, unforgivable.

Now, though. She would never forgive him for leaving them.

"Erik won't get out of bed," she said softly, running a hand over her eyes. they were itchy from lack of sleep. She had stayed up, holding Erik each night when memories of Charles's torture sent him to the brink of emotional insanity. He clung to her at those moments, whimpering as his mind replayed the screams over and over…

"He can't get what he saw in there out of his mind. What they did to Charles…" she shook her head. "He thinks it's his fault. He's in agony over it," the boys shifted on either side of her uncomfortably. Erik was their leader, the closest thing to a father figure besides Charles that they had had. To hear about him in such weakness…

"I would be angry at any other man," Hank admitted, softly. "For being in that cell with him and still not bringing him home, but… Not Erik. I know that he would have died to save Charles. I can't blame him knowing that," a nod of agreement from Jason.

"And…?" Emma was almost afraid to ask. "Cecilia?"

Jason inhaled a shuddering breath. "I've never seen her like this," he told them helplessly. "She's… crushed. She just sits in the library, not reading or anything, just staring at the spot where Charles usually…" Their secret place, where anyone might find one or the other of them reading to each other.

Emma was sure they had gotten through half of the library when Charles was taken. "She thinks it's her fault, too. As if she should have done something that night," Jason sighed.

"She would have been killed," Hank pointed out, appalled. Jason was silent for a long span of time, before he whispered desolately:

"Hank… She _is_ dead. On the inside. She's just a shell now," as they all were. The house felt so empty without Charles Xavier in it. It felt so cold without his soft reassuring presence in the back of their minds, a protective eye set upon the premises. Every time the television came on, the children would swivel, almost expecting to see the professor just halfway across the country speaking about mutant rights or meeting with some important leader to debate the same. When the television showed nothing but Holly and Jim, their faces would fall. Sean had almost destroyed one of the T.V's out of pain.

Not that Emma blamed him. It was almost torture; expecting him to come home, knowing that is physical body was downstairs in the freezer because they didn't know where else to put him and no one wanted to let the media know yet. They weren't ready for the barrage of cameras, condolences and cries of outrage. Erik, especially, was not ready for the manhunt to find Mr. Xavier.

 _"_ _Killing,"_ he told them when it was brought up. _"Does not bring peace. Only pain,"_ and then he had retreated inside himself, as if the mere suggestion of vengeance sucked the life from him where once it would have fired him up.

Seeing Charles… Hurt, had taught him different lessons about revenge though.

"But we have to go," Hank continued. "He has to be buried. He…" His voice cracked upon remembering his mentor, his partner, his friend. "He would want us to move on," he forced out of his mouth.

Emma laid a hand on his arm and nodded. It was so… Morbid. The fact that he was to be buried in the backyard, but no one could think of a greater place. The graveyards which held others seemed too foreign for Charles. He needed to be buried where his heart had laid; with the school. With them.

 _Logan,_ she called telepathically. _Are you ready?_ He, Alex and Sean were digging the hole.

 _As we'll ever be,_ he sent back remorsefully.

Emma stood and offered Hank and Jason her hands. They took them, squeezed and the three walked outside to see Alex, Sean and Logan situated around a large hole. A light snow had fallen the night before. It stuck to the ground like a bed of soft clouds.

Even the sky had seen it fit to give Charles a soft resting place.

The snowflakes twinkled on the frosty ground, but a ray of sunshine shown through the clouds. Behind them, a metal box, crafted lovingly and carved with the most intricate eye, sat on the ground. Charles's body was inside. Alex and Sean had tears already rolling down their cheeks. Logan's eyes were moist, but his face was poised into an unbreakable line of _'stay strong,'_ Emma could feel his insides trembling with the strain of it.

 _Children,_ she called with a deep breath. _Come down, its time._

A few minutes later, Scott and Bobby appeared from inside. They both held a single blue flower in their hands. Blue was the color of equality and freedom. The sky. Of Charles's eyes. It was fitting.

Azazel and Riptide trailed them. Moira and Michael shadowed them. Next came Warren and Rogue, followed by Jean and Ororo, and finally Cassidy held the hand of Kitty, all of them dressed in black and carrying blue flowers of remorse. Raven came a second later, her blue skin tinted darker from the cold and dark clothes. She settled at Hank's side silently. He pulled her into his arms, tears already forming in his eyes.

Erik and Cecilia were the last ones to come out. Cecilia wore the veil of widowhood and remorse, her eyes drawn and dark with unhappiness. She was clinging to Erik's arm. Emma felt no jealousy. In that moment, the two of them were lovers in misery, partners in pain, caught in a web of love and then despair for this incredible man.

Erik's eyes were dull and blank behind what used to be dancing azures, his smile extinguished; he was grief's master and slave. They all settled in a circle around Charles's casket, and bowed their heads. After a moment of silence in which only a few remaining birds twittered sadly, Emma had to ask. "Does… Does anyone have anything to say?" There was another long stretch of silence. Then, Raven stepped forward.

Gently, she pressed her flower to the top of his closed casket. "Thank you for finding me, Charlie," she whispered, and then stepped back, hands clasped before her. And just as one of her phrases had done, the saying caught on. Because in truth Charles had found all of them. Each of them went in a line, pressing their flowers to the top of his casket, and whispering their heartfelt thankyou's.

Finally, they were done. Emma looked at Erik. He was staring at the casket with wide eyes, as if he were a child asking when his parents were going to wake up on Christmas day. "Ready?" Logan asked huskily.

Emma knew no one else would answer. She took a deep breath. _You were a good friend, Charles. Goodbye. "_ Yes," she whispered.

"No!" They all jumped, startled by the sudden loud call. Emma swiveled around, irate that anyone would interrupt this moment, to see an elderly woman standing in the doorway, wide sapphire eyes trained in the casket. She had a white cloak wrapped around her head, but Emma could see a few straggles of gray hair and her face was wrinkled past all comprehension. She breathed with labored breaths as if she were dying. Emma tried to read her mind, but found it slippery to the touch, like a soapy countertop.

"Who are you?" Hank gasped.

"How did you get in here?" Moira added.

"Someone who can help him," she pointed to Charles's casket.

Emma took it she was a mutant with some extraordinary powers. Yet no power was more powerful than _death_. "He's dead," she spat, angered that this stranger should come and interrupt them. "There's no help to be given," the woman shook her head obstinately and walked towards them, trembling. In her hand was a long, gnarled cane.

"I can bring him back," she insisted.

"Fessors dead," Kitty pointed out again, her bottom lip trembling. "We have to put him in the ground now," her eyes filled with tears and Emma was all the more enraged towards this woman for forcing the child to say it.

"Please," the woman pleaded. There was sincere desperation in her voice. "I mean no harm. At least let me _try._ There's no harm in that, is there?" She asked. _Great, a mentally insane person, that was_ _ **just**_ _what they needed right now._ Emma took a step forward about to _forcibly remove_ this woman, but Erik put a restraining hand on her arm.

"Emma please," his voice was husky. She stopped and looked into his eyes. He turned and looked to Cecilia, staring at the woman gravely. "It's your decision. You owned his heart," Erik told her respectfully. Cecilia glanced at him momentarily, taking in Emma's readiness to get rid of this woman, and nodded. She took a step forward, coming face to face with the stranger.

"Why do you care what happens to him?" She inquired, softly. The woman bowed her head humbly.

"Because I have a debt to repay him," Emma and Erik exchanged suspicious looks. What debt could Charles possible have accumulated from this old woman? Cecilia judged her word true and nodded. She stood and gestured to the casket.

"Let her through," at the order, everyone back away, settling into a line on either side of the casket protectively. The woman squeezed Cecilia's hand, eyes briefly flicking to the green queen at her neck.

"Thank you, child," she breathed reverently. Then, wobbling forward faster than Emma would have imagined, the old woman fell to her knees besides Charles's casket and gently removed each flower form the top. With exquisite wonder, she placed them on the snow-covered ground.

Then, struggling slightly, she lifted the heavy casket lid. She gasped quietly upon seeing Charles in his broken state. "Oh, my boy," she moaned in anguish, briefly closing her eyes. Her shoulders bowed as if weighed down by impossible horror. Then, she settled a bony, wrinkled hand upon Charles's brow.

As the others watched, spell-bound and hopeful, she began to sign in a soft voice that swirled in the air over their heads until it was like the blowing of the wind. _"Hush little baby, don't start crying. Mama's gonna get you a sister named Raven,"_ _That's creepy._

The words were hauntingly beautiful though, as if the sound coming from her voice was enveloping them in… In a spell. _"And if that Raven bird don't sing, mama's gonna get you a little green queen,"_ Emma glanced at Cecilia. The other woman was blurred by the thick fog in her mind. Vaguely, she registered the others falling, also succumbing to the lure of the woman's voice. What was happening to them?

 _"_ _And if the green queen get's broke, Mama's gonna get you some nice new folks,"_ The children. Erik. All of them. the family that had come after the pain of childhood Their faces flashed before Emma's eyes She did not register falling to her knees in the soft snow, the words of the woman echoing in her mind like church bells, lulling her to sleep at the same time a making her feel…Safe.

 _"_ _And if those nice new folks go away, mama will buy you one more day,"_ Just as he had bought day for all of them. Days of freedom, equality, justice. Emma's mind spun. The world tipped into whiteness, a light so bright it blinded her. Her heart thumped in her ears like a frightened rabbit while the words whistled through her clouded mind like the wind.

 _"_ _And if in that day the sun don't shine, mama's gonna give you her whole life…"_ Emma gasped as her heart went _ping._ As if she had been transported by elevator from the depths of confusion and grief to the top floor of some grand precipice, stepping out into the rays of dawn, she now saw the sun again.

The sun had the face of Charles Xavier.

The woman had fallen next to the casket, face first. Her breathing rattled in her lungs. Yet sitting straight up with eyes fluttering was Charles Xavier. Emma gawked at him. Where a moment before his body had been broken, his face marred by bruising and pain, he now looked as healthy as the day she had first met him. His sapphire eyes sparkled with life; and his chocolate hair was as springy as the fluffy curls of sheep.

Emma wouldn't have believed it was true….Until she felt his psychic signature wrap around hers like a curious child probing at some long forgotten comfort, examining its every crevice for familiar signs of use. Then, of course, he had to look at them. His brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at them and Emma had the feeling that he had no idea who they were.

"Charles," she stood on wobbly feet. The others were gawking at the come-back-to-life body incredulously. "Do you know who I am?" She felt him probing at her mind, clumsily, like a newborn calf getting his footing. Then, recognition beamed in his face.

"Emma," he breathed. He smiled dazzlingly at her. Then, seeming to recall something important, scowled at her quizzically. "What happened?" he asked. Emma could only gesture helplessly to the woman on the ground. Her legs were still weak. She could already feel herself buckling back down to the ground. Charles's eyes followed her gesture. When he saw the woman, he gasped and fairly lunged forward to gently lift her by the shoulders.

When he turned her around, the shawl she wore slipped away, revealing her graying hair to still have streaks of blonde in it. Charles's eyes widened when he saw her face. " _Mother,"_ he identified.

Emma was very bewildered. Charles's mother was a…?

The dying stranger smiled sweetly and a shaking hand reached up to tenderly card through Charles's hair. "My son," she whispered sweetly.

"You're a _mutant_?" Charles nearly shrieked in shock. A single nod, then a cringe. Now Emma knew why she had not been able to read the other's mind. She had slight telepathic powers, very tiny, but still strong enough to build a half-decent shield around her psyche. "Why did you never tell me?" Charles gasped, feeling the same thing.

The woman-his mother-shook her head. "Too ashamed," she whispered. "Always scared your… Father wouldn't like it… Then you had it and I… I was too afraid. I'm sorry," she let out a rattling breath from deep in her lungs. Charles's eyes were moist as he gently touched her cheek.

"We haven't seen each other in _years_ ," he breathed tearfully. "Why would you come now?" Emma was wondering the same thing.

The mother weakly grasped at her son's hand. Charles gave it, holding her tightly. "I brought you… Into this life," she told him. "And never… Took care of…You right. Needed to make up… For it. Needed to repay my debt," Emma looked over to see Erik watching the scene with disbelief…

And gratitude.

"You're dying," Charles realized in dismay.

The woman nodded. "A life for a life," she agreed.

Charles held her against his chest tighter. "I never wanted this," he protested quietly.

She shook her head, eyelids fluttering closed. "It was my life… To give," she replied steadily. "You deserve it more… Than I do. I have done nothing with it... But _fear_ for myself. You will do… So much more, yes?" It was a request. Charles nodded. A single tear ran down his face as he leaned down to kiss her weathered forehead.

"I promise," he agreed. "Thank you, mother," she gave him a proud grin and her eyes fluttered shut, face relaxed into bliss while she was held in her son's arms.

"No, son… _Thank you_ ," a slow breath gently ruffled his air as she breathed out her last. Emma watched as Charles tenderly set his mother back on the ground. Then, fairly shocking her to death, he _stood_ up and stepped out of his casket.

He was standing.

Charles, also, seemed a bit surprised at this. He squeezed one leg experimentally. Apparently deciding that his legs were fully functional, he confidently bent down and picked up his mother. After setting her kindly into his casket, he turned around with a charming and happy grin.

His eyes roamed over their faces until they landed on Cecilia. He cocked a Charles-like eyebrow, and opened his arms. Tears sparkled in his eyes. "Is anyone going to give me a hug?" He wondered cheerfully.

For a moment, they only stared in shock at this ghost, this…. This…

At _him._

Suddenly: "FESSOR!" Kitty launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist joyfully. "You came back!" She laughed as Charles spun her around, laughing.

"Well, of course," Charles agreed, gently setting her down. "I couldn't very well miss Christmas, could I? I do believe I owe _you_ a puppy," he told her, tapping her playfully on the nose. Kitty giggled.

"Do I get a puppy too, Charlie?" Raven asked, timidly stepping forward. Charles fixed her with an affectionate look.

"Anything for you, sister mine," and then Raven was in his arms, crying softly into his shoulder.

"I love you, Charles," she whispered. He hugged her tighter.

"I love you more," Sean stepped forward, tears running down his face, he wiped them away hurriedly and promptly hugged Charles from the back.

"Can I have a gerbil?" he muttered into his shoulder.

"What in the world do you want a rat for?"

Upon hearing the indignant response, the spell was broken for everyone else.

"CHARLES!" Cecilia suddenly screamed in joy, rushing forward to attack him in a vicious hug.

"Wow!" Charles cried out, stumbling backwards as the children followed suit, covering him in a thick layer of hugs and kisses. "You're _walking_ , Charles!" Cecilia cried in delight, kissing him squarely on the mouth. Charles laughed, a little dazedly.

"It's glorious!" he agreed. Emma looked back at Erik, the only one still standing alone in the snow. She smiled and extended a hand.

"Erik," he looked up at her, tears streaming down his face. "Are you going to say hello?" A timid nod of fear before he grabbed her hand tightly in his, as if she were leading him to the throne of a revered king. Emma led Erik up to the standing and laughing Charles Xavier, surrounded by excited children and tearful family members. He looked up when Erik approached. Cecilia stepped away from the hug she had enveloped him in.

The two men stood face to face, reflections of each other. "Erik…" Charles glanced around at the children. Then he grinned. "Your promise… Thank you for keeping it," he breathed.

Erik blinked a few times, as if coming from a stupor. Suddenly, surprising them all, the metal bender threw himself into Charles's arms. "Never," he hissed into his ear as they slowly sunk to their knees together in the snow, like two halves that had finally become whole again. " _Ever_ make me promise that again Charles!" he sobbed against his shoulder. "You bloody idiot!" He added.

Charles held Erik firmly against him, and laughed. "You bet," he vowed.


	39. Chapter 39

_**Two months later:**_

Alex held his stomach as he laughed. Behind him and above him, everyone else was in near tears. Already several of them had nearly drowned (Charles for a second blasted time, as Erik had pointed out hysterically). Who would have known that Sean could scream like a girl? Well, beyond the obvious reasons he would be doing that anyway. He wasn't afraid to fight an army of anti-mutant members but he was terrified of _a fish nibbling at him_?

"Hey, Sean! Want to get some sushi later?" He called, wiping away one of the tears running down the side of his nose. Sean flung a piece of seaweed at his face in reply, splattering him with water, turned green by the innards of the water plant. "Don't be a poor sport, buddy!" Alex laughed squeezing out his hair.

Someone flittered above him. Alex looked up, hoping to see Cassidy but instead found Warren, his swimming trunks wet from the recent dunking contest. Alex had watched him dominate the contest between Sean and Cecilia until Jean showed up and trumped everyone. Blasted telepathy. "I don't think he liked that," Warren giggled.

"Nope," Riptide agreed cheerfully, reaching up at tickle at Warren's bare foot. Alex's little brother giggled and yanked his foot away. Still laughing, he swooped a few feet away, doing a wicked bird-like dive into the water, graceful as an eagle.

"Hey, who are we to break tradition?" Alex asked, watching this with admiration. A person looking at Warren now would never have guessed that once he was terrified of his wings, ashamed of his power.

Suddenly, he felt a tug from below the water on his ankle and then he was plummeting down and surrounded by warm, clearest blue water. Bubbles rushed around his face and dug into the crevices of his body. He wiggled uncomfortably as a few got stuck in his shorts.

He dove for the surface, and had to wipe the hair from his eyes before he heard the peals of laughter from above. Sean came up out of the water a second later, grinning wickedly. _Looks like he wants another go…_ Alex grumbled, swiping his hair out of his eyes.

Sean was still smirking at him with crossed arms.

"Alright, I deserved that," he confessed running a hand through his drenched hair. Moira, Emma, Cassidy, Raven and Ororo leaning on the railing above them, laughed. "Drowning is our thing anyway," he supposed in a whisper.

 _Drowning is a vulgar exercise, Alex,_ Charles answered in his mind, immediately. Alex rolled his eyes playfully. Sean chuckled in silent agreement before looking up.

Alex followed his eyes; the sun was bright as a beacon, even though it was lowering, turning the sky a beautiful combination of purple, pink and orange, swirling in space as impeccably as Cassidy's eyes.

The sky shimmered off of the water like a rippling mirror. Alex had to admit, this was the most beautiful scene he had ever seen. He decided that he loved Brazil. The fact that they were in a secluded resort (courtesy of the president) in the Amazon Rainforest (avoiding the media, who had been all too ready to cast footage on Erik and Emma's wedding) could have been the reason for this awesome-ness too. He couldn't _wait_ for Charles's wedding.

Maybe _that_ one would be in Austria.

He smiled peacefully and dove, taking a look around at the clear underwater. Sea-weed drifted in the gentle waves and a few colorful fish swam back and forth. He let himself waft back up.

"The water is fine!" Riptide was calling up to the spectators above. "Come on!" The women above stared blankly down at them for a moment, evidently wondering whether they were being addressed. Emma shook her head in exasperation. Raven snorted, but Moira smiled. Alex should have known that she would be all too eager to participate in the game. Moira disliked anyone having the advantage over her.

"Wonder when Michael's going to propose," Alex muttered to himself. Riptide elbowed him in the ribs.

"Shut up! Me and the Professor are working on it!" he grinned. _Of course_ Charles would be working on it.

"Well," Moira was saying as she vanished from the railing. "Since all of the interesting people seem to be in the water…"

A second later, surprising everyone, Moira jumped off of the balcony, graceful and agile as a bird. Her arms outstretched and eyes closed as her newly cut dress fluttered behind her.

Alex (and just about everyone else) watched with open mouths as she landed in the water with a loud and exuberant splash.

Jean and Rogue cheered as the others stared. Alex was dumbfounded. Everyone else had taken the stairs that led from the deck into the water. He was slightly jealous that he hadn't thought to jump first. He looked to Charles, but his mentor was only grinning, seemingly unsurprised by the display.

"Good on you, Moira!" he applauded. Moira shook out her short chestnut hair, grinning from ear to ear. A second later, Alex heard the yapping of a dog at the water's edge, stirred to lively animation by the applause and splashing.

"Hey, Reginald!" Kitty shrieked; laughing as the puppy chased after a sudden flock of screeching wild parrots. The small Labrador barked madly, obviously of the opinion that the birds were serious threats. Kitty chased after him, giggling. _Wish we would have had him around when the anti-mutant guys came,_ Alex thought, his mood momentarily sucked dry. That night, and all it had entailed, wafted back into his memory like a thick fog.

"Well!" That voice snapped him out of it as if his mind were a receptive elastic rubber band. Cassidy had backed away from the edge, evidently liking Moira's way of thinking. Alex's heart skipped a beat. _This_ would be good. "If Moira can do it, then here I come!" She did a very attractive cannonball.

"Nice!" Alex cheered, his spirits lightening once again. The past was the past. he was here, now. They all were. "Ororo, Raven, come on!" He called to the children as Cassidy emerged beside him, gasping for breath as she beamed. Her colorful wings shimmered behind her back, sparkling like a spider's web of dewdrops. He gave her a one-armed hug.

"Raven, where are you?" Hank wondered, still floating on his back. He looked a bit like a giant stuffed animal, plush and heavy with water. Sean pushed him down by the stomach as he drifted past.

Suddenly, grinning so brightly that her teeth flashed, Ororo let growing white hair loose, shaking it free as she laughed. Rogue was also doing so on the balcony. "Come on, Raven!" Hank called, swimming away from Sean to avoid being drowned. He splashed water at his face repeatedly as his giant paws ripped through the water.

Ororo leaped from the balcony, spinning in the air like an arrow, she landed without so much of a splash and sailed through the water like it was her natural element. Charles clapped. "Well done!" He congratulated as Ororo came back up. Alex had rarely seen him so blissful.

"Emma, your turn!" Moira once again tried, she looked as relaxed as anyone before her.

"I'm in my _wedding dress_! That cost three hundred dollars!" Emma pointed out indignantly, putting her hands on her hips. Erik, who had come up behind her sporting two martinis, grumbled in agreement. He did not overly enjoy his black suit and tie (especially since it was so hot. Why hadn't he gotten married in shorts like a sane person?) but he did look very decorous with it on.

Emma, meanwhile, sparkled like the diamond skin she had sported half of the day, reflecting the sun's rays in her gorgeous white dress. "Don't worry, Emma," Raven declared, as she smiled. "I'll handle the masses," and with that promise, Raven did a simple back-flip into the water. They all cheered as she landed with a gentle splash.

"This is all very undignified, esteemed Professor X," Erik pointed out as Emma gripped his hand tightly. The love in her eyes perhaps made her more beautiful. Alex wouldn't know. He still had to propose to Cassidy. He planned to do it on her Birthday next month, when they both turned nineteen. He was pretty sure Charles would be pestering him about that too, sooner or later. Erik was smiling as brightly as ever, Alex couldn't remember ever seeing him so carefree.

"So I've noticed, revered Magneto," Charles agreed, matching his dry tone. Then, equally as dry, he said: "We saved _mutant-kind,_ Erik," he reminded him.

"He has a point there, Chief," Logan stated with content from where he sat a few feet away on the soft sand beneath the balcony. He, Jason, Cecilia and Azazel sipped martinis in the shade.

"We're heroes!" Rogue sang, diving again.

Alex raised a fist and kicked at Sean below the water. "Here, hear!" he crowed. Jason, Azazel and Cecilia clinked glasses, silently toasting to the same proclamation. Then, as if she had been called, Cecilia looked up and grinned brilliantly in Charles's direction. He outstretched a hand, invitingly.

She stood from her spot in between Logan and Jason and waded into the water. The grin she gave him rivaled that of the sun. Alex smiled, he would never have predicted this only a year ago. Heck, as a kid fighting on the hot Cuban sand, he had seen a bright future, but not _this._

Their family had lost so much; had come so _far._ _But…_ He contemplated thoughtfully, as he watched Ororo and Rogue splash each other playfully and Hank nuzzle Raven's neck from behind, causing her to laugh when his whiskers tickled her neck. Erik and Emma shared a chaste kiss up above. Charles and Cecilia were talking as they swam around each other. _Who cares if we came across some problems?_

Everything worked for the better of the end. Alex grinned, he had stopped Shaw, saved Mutant-kind, but better yet, he had found a family as odd as he.

"Alex!" Of course Sean would mess up his thought processes. He turned to gasp as Ororo and Scott tackled him, giggling. "I tried to warn you," Sean laughed. Alex laughed as two climbed on his head, weighing them down.

He loved them; he loved them all so much.

"Alright, you guys," Cassidy said lifting Scott from his position behind Alex's right ear. "No killing the hero," she said.

"Hero?" Erik demanded from above. "I did all the _hard_ work!" He yelled, gazing pointedly at Charles, the evident slacker of the two.

"Who earned an international man-hunt, dear fellow?"

Cecilia chuckled. "Dear fellow? You're so _British_ ," she told him amusedly. Charles's mouth quirked into a grin, but he did not refute her statement. Alex saw his arms tighten round her waist.

" _And_ a movement? _And_ a peace-keeping team named after me?" He continued.

Erik let out a mild curse in German, carefully eyeing Kitty to make sure she didn't hear and repeat it. She already knew how to call someone a 'fat cow' in German thanks to him. And a 'witch's spawn' in Latin thanks to Hank. Alex thought it was great. "That was my team! And we already had a cool name!"

"The 'Brotherhood of Mutants' was clichéd, Erik," Charles snorted. Erik flicked a metal ball at Charles head. The telepath ducked, having felt the thought before it became reality. The ball flew into the water with a plop.

Emma laid a restraining hand on his arm. "Don't mess up his pretty head, darling," she crooned. Erik chuckled and turned to stare down at her with tender eyes.

"Why did they give you a Peace prize again?" Hank called up, interrupting their moment because he was one of those scientific types that paid little heed to emotions. It was kinda funny, really.

"Because we're peacefully aggressive," Emma answered for him.

"Emma, you've already gone delusional," Sean told her sadly. "I knew it would happen eventually. You married _Erik_ ," he lamented. Erik flung a metal ball covered with seaweed at him, too.

Sean screamed in alarm and ducked beneath the water, coming to hide behind Alex. "Havoc, I need back up!" He cried. Alex laughed and ruffled Sean's hair playfully.

"Not my job, man," he informed him, though he had already snagged one of the metal balls beneath the waves. Intending to catch Erik by surprise, he aimed, getting ready to fling it but instead he turned and chucked it at Hank. Raven burst into laughter as it hit Hank upside the head.

"Alex!" Hank roared, baring sharp teeth at him. Alex smiled and backstroked, making a show of not being worried.

"What are you going to do, bozo?" he probably should not have asked that. A litter of seaweed balls hit him. Alex laughed and prepared to wage the only war they had left. With his family.

And from above the newlyweds watched from the balcony as chuckling specters, and Charles and Cecilia sat on the beach smiling widely. At last, the dreams of Charles and Erik-those of both equality and freedom- had been fulfilled to their wishes and hopes. At last, they had the choice of peace and the chance to be hopeful.

The right to be human.

 ** _THE END_**

* * *

Well, this has been an interesting journey. For my first X-men fan fiction, I certainly did not expect such a large and enthusiastic following and I want to thank everyone who reviewed, followed or favorited me! Any writer knows that they cannot be without their readers. Much love, everyone! :D

~QueenYoda


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